#I also still remember a song I learned my senior year shit shit shit what’s the name apartment 14b??????? gonna go look it up hold on

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 8 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Ummm this chapter has a little bit of everything... Family, fluff, a bit of smut, slight angst. It also has a time jump because we gotta keep shit movingggg. And I could write 100 chapters of fluff with these two butttt we're here for the drama! lol Also another gif that has nothing to do with anything LOL But I imagine this is what our girl wakes up to every day and I love that for her

Warnings: brief mentions of DV

“So Charlie, are you excited to be back on the stage?” Michael’s mom asked as they settled around Michael’s dining room table for dinner.

Though it was a small affair, the table was weighed down by Donna’s decadent and delicious cooking, his mom cooking both he and Charlotte’s favorites for their goodbye dinner. Once his father had said grace, initial conversations had given way to the sounds of forks and spoons clinking against china as everyone passed dishes and savored Donna’s cooking. Though Michael’s family was used to it, Charlotte’s were too busy stuffing their faces to be much conversationalists.  

Her face had been drawn up in a bright smile since her brother, Lauren, and Jazz arrived. The tone around the table was a bittersweet one, joy for Charlotte and this opportunity everyone knew she deserved and needed, but melancholy at having two staples of their respective communities gone, even if it was only a temporary absence. 

Between the press tour and preparing to leave, the time had flown by and the move that once seemed so far away was hurtling toward them like a high speed train. Charlotte still found herself shocked that Michael was willing to move with her. As the date inched closer and closer, she half expected him to find an excuse not to accompany her. But that never materialized. Instead, he took it upon himself to do all of the planning. Time to find an apartment? Already done and vetted by Michael. Furnish the place? Interior decorator was already on it with images of both of their homes to capture their respective styles. All day, every day, he sent her restaurants and places he wanted to try, some Charlotte had been to and some she hadn’t, or asked her about her favorite spots to add to the list. His excitement was contagious, which counteracted the stress, dread, and anxiety Charlotte felt. For him, this was just the first of many adventures with the woman he loved. For her, it was returning home after running away. And that was never easy.   

“Yea I really am. It’ll be an adjustment for sure. Next two months’ll be crazy. But I… really missed it. I’m coming in a few weeks behind in rehearsals but it’ll be good to be back.” 

Michael’s hand, which had rested on her thigh since they sat down, squeezed gently to reassure her, soothing her anxiety. 

“Only on the choreo. This girl could perform the show and songs forward and backwards right now if she wanted.” 

Charlotte smiled. “He might be right about that. But the choreo is the harder part for me anyway.” 

“Yea the girl was born with every talent but rhythm,” Jackson called down the table causing everyone to laugh, Charlotte leaning behind Michael’s chair to flip him off without everyone seeing. 

“He never gives her credit. Charlie is a great dancer,” Lauren chimed in, not allowing her husband to joke at her best friend’s expense. “Remember the spring production of Oklahoma our freshman year??” 

Charlotte groaned. “Ugh don’t remind me! Some of the worst weeks of my life.”

“What happened?” Michael asked. 

“There was a nasty norovirus going around campus and Charlie, one of the only freshmen in Juilliard history to play the coveted lead of a spring production, caught it the second day of rehearsals. Was out for two weeks. The director planned on bumping up her understudy.” 

“A senior who despised me and was probably hoping the virus would kill me,” she laughed. “Director said there was noooooo way I could learn the staging and choreo in the two remaining weeks before opening night,” Charlotte interjected, rolling her eyes. “He was just worried he took a chance on a freshman only for her to crash and burn.” 

“Since I was dancing in the production, I could record rehearsals. Charlotte watched every rehearsal, learning every move, lyric, and note while she was sick. Sis showed up once she was cleared by the doctor and you wouldn’t have even known she missed two weeks of rehearsals. She looked and sounded better than some folks who’d been to every rehearsal.”

“Messed up one or two steps,” she admitted. “But nothing that couldn’t be fixed in the time we had left.”

“How’d you manage that?” 

She shrugged. “I just rehearsed and slept in between trips to the bathroom,” she laughed. “My doctor thought I was completely insane but as they say, ‘the show must go on.’” 

“Will you have enough tickets for us all to come to opening night or do we need to come at a different time?” Jackson asked.

“I definitely can get everyone tickets for previews, those start mid February. Not sure how many I can snag for opening night though.” 

“What are previews?” Michael’s dad asked. 

“Oh, sort of a test run? Just an opportunity to perform the show to audiences before the official opening night. Gives you a chance to work out issues and fix things before critics review it. The show ran off-Broadway first so our previews are only a couple weeks. So we have a month and a half of true rehearsals and then previews and then the show premieres March 1.” 

“And how long are you all gonna be there again?” 

“In total? 8 months I guess with rehearsals? I only signed on to be on the cast for six months though… March to September.” 

“Knowing you, you’ll extend it,” Jackson offered with a knowing smile.

Charlotte shook her head. “I dunno. Chris would love that. But doing 8 shows a week for six months is a lot. And gets old after a while,” she admitted. “Maybe I’d do a different show, but I'll probably come back here. I promised Chris six months so that’s all I’m committing to.” 

Everyone nodded in understanding, the conversation drifting away from Charlie and to separate topics. Charlie glanced around the table, a soft content smile on her face as she watched the two groups interact. It was not just each family chatting off to themselves. Lauren and Michael’s mom and sister were deep in a conversation about the struggles of parenting young children; Michael’s brother and Jackson were arguing about the Lakers vs the Clippers; and Jazz and Michael were deeply enthralled in a story told by Michael Sr. And everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there and interact. This was their first time truly combining the groups but she thought it boded well for when they all met the rest of her immediate family on the East Coast. If Jazz, Lauren, and Jackson liked them and fit in, the rest of her family would too. 

As dinner winded down, Charlotte stood up from the table to bring out dessert. Michael offered a soft peck to the inside of her wrist, which she returned with one to the top of his head, before she grabbed his plate to take into the kitchen. She hummed to herself as she loaded the dishwasher and pulled out the cake his mom prepared earlier that day. It was Michael’s favorite, her rum cake. Charlie could not deny it was one of the best cakes she had ever tasted, hers included. 

As she moved the cake to the island, she lost her balance on her heels, almost falling. She was able to sit the cake down quickly, it wobbled slightly in its glass case but remained unharmed despite her clumsiness. 

“There you go, tripping over air,” she cursed herself, annoyed and thankful she had not destroyed his mother’s cake. As she moved the holder on the island, a wave of deja vu hit her, a vision of a cake and cake holder smashing to the ground filling her brain. She paused, studying the glass cake stand, her stiletto-shaped nails gliding over it gently. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, the memory too foggy and distant to make sense of. During most of her deja-vu moments or flashbacks, the memories hit her like she was being forced in front of a movie screen. But as much as she racked her brain, she couldn't think of anything related to this moment.

“You ok, dear?” Donna’s soft voice interrupted Charlotte as she zoomed through the Rolodex of memories in her mind.

“Hm? Oh yea, I’m ok,” Charlotte answered, glancing up. she noticed the plates in the woman’s hands before abandoning her thoughts and grabbing them from her. “Let me get those.” 

“Thank you, dear. Your family is lovely. They fit right in,” Donna offered as she moved to grab a knife and small plates for dessert. 

Charlotte smiled, “Thanks. I’m excited for all of you to meet the rest of them. Everyone else is fairly tame in comparison,” she joked. 

As she loaded their dishwasher, she glanced at his mom. 

“This was all delicious, thank you. Thank God he picked up your cooking skills or else we’d starve in New York.”

The older woman laughed. “Well anytime you want to learn, you let me know. Though I think you’d give me a run for my money with those desserts of yours.” 

Charlotte could not help but beam a bit at her compliment. 

Charlotte dried her hands on a dish towel, anxiously twisting the soft fabric in her hands and chewing on her lip as she watched his mom. 

“I hope you don’t mind…” she started, pausing as the older woman looked at her with confusion. “M-Me stealing him away for a while. I’m honestly still a bit surprised he wanted to do this at all. But I know it’s probably hard when he’s gone for a long time. I feel kinda bad?” She admitted quietly. “I know he’s gonna miss you guys so much.” She stared at the wall that blocked Michael and everyone at the table from their vision, her face falling a bit as she felt the guilt of pulling him away from his family and community in LA. Even though he offered, she could not help but question whether she should have accepted it, accepted taking him away from his family like this.

“If I may?” Donna’s hands wrapped around Charlotte’s, halting her anxious movements and towel twisting. “I know it hasn’t been that long but I’ve never seen my son as happy as he is with you. One thing you should never doubt is how much that man in there adores you. I dare say he would try to move a mountain if he thought it’d bring you joy. You should never feel bad for accepting the manifestations of his love and commitment. Because I dare say, this is just the beginning.”  

Charlotte felt a tear start to fall, not from sadness but from the love, grace, and compassion his mother always showed her. From the moment they first met to today, she never acted like those dreaded mother-in-laws her married friends moaned about. Charlotte’s mother would not be considered a constant presence in her life, a rarity at best. And through everything she had been through, the one thing she had always hoped for but never had was a mom. Michael’s mom did not know about her mom’s absence but she seemed to recognize it was something Charlie still needed, a mother’s love, support, grace, and word of wisdom. And she offered it in droves. 

“T-thank you,” she whispered, whisking the tears away just as Michael rounded the corner to check on them. 

“Hey, you two alright?” 

“Yes of course, baby.” Her face immediately brightened as he entered the room, not even just to hide her and his mom’s emotional moment but just from his presence. “Just hounding your mom for this amazing rum cake recipe so I can make it for you in New York…” 

“But… I told her she’s gotta be officially in the family first for me to share it. So get to it,” she whispered to Bakari with a sly smile and a peck on the cheek as she returned to the dining room with the rest of the family. 

“Damn, she’s not subtle at all, is she?” he asked as he grabbed the cake while Charlotte grabbed the plates his mom pulled out. 

Charlotte laughed, patting him on the chest as she passed him to return to the dining room. “No, definitely not.”

***

Their moans created an orchestra filling his bedroom as Michael kept Charlotte’s eyes trained on his as he fucked her slow and deep. 

They rarely had sex in missionary these days, both of them finding other positions far more interesting and fun. However, when they were both in the mood for something slower and more sensual, missionary hit the spot for both of them. It offered them something deeper than pure pleasure. It was an intimacy and comfort they both needed for their last night in Michael’s bed for a while. 

Looking into each other’s eyes was a meeting of the minds, beyond merely connecting with their bodies, they connected with their souls. They saw all of each other, all of the excitement, anxiety, joy, and fear of what tomorrow would hold for them. And every moment, every movement and touch between them was an effort to honor those feelings. Every touch and whispered adoration told the other that they were here and they were ready for everything the universe had in store for them. 

There would be time for fast and wild later. Tonight, they were just cherishing the moment and each other before their first real adventure as a couple began. 

“J-Just li-like that. F-Fuck, I-I love you,” she moaned, having already lost count of her orgasms as Michael pushed her to the edge of another one. 

She could tell he was close as he picked up the pace a bit. Her hips rocked slightly to meet his, her core pulsing and tightening around him causing a primitive moan to escape him. 

It only took a moment for him to fill her before he rolled off of her. 

“You good?” He asked, a question he usually asked when they finished up, whether the session was slow and sensual or had her doing acrobatics. And the answer was always in the same vein: she was more than good.

“Excellent. I could fall asleep j-just like this,” she yawned, knowing that her sleep after sex was always elite, Michael tiring her out to the point where she could not do much else. However, before she did, she got up to go to the bathroom, Michael talking to her as she groped her way through the darkness of his room. 

“You ready for tomorrow?” He asked as he found his briefs to slide on and climb back into bed. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she called back. “You sure you still wanna come? Not too late to back out. Well, we signed a lease, on a way too expensive apartment, I might add… so it’s a bit late. But you could still do it.” 

Though her tone had the intent of a joke, Michael could still hear it, her hesitation and fear that let him know she was still concerned he would abandon her. He knew she would not truly believe him until they were moved in and settled but he was genuinely excited to go with her. Not just to support her and provide her with some sense of safety while she was there, but to witness this next stage in her career. This was her dream and he saw no better use of his time than watching her fulfill it. He knew why she was hesitant, they had only been dating for mere months. However, when he looked at Charlotte, he saw a perfect glittering gold path to a future he had never given much thought to because he had always been too focused on the hustle, a marriage and a family like the one his parents had built. To him, this was one step down that path and he would never regret taking it. Part of him was annoyed he would have to return to LA in June for another project before her time in New York ended but he decided he would savor the initial six months of uninterrupted time together. 

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy, honey bee. And after living with me in New York, maybe that’ll convince you to move in with me when we get back?” He asked as she washed her hands. 

She poked her head out into the room to look at him, finding that his face matched the seriousness of his tone and words.

“What? Y-You want me to move in? Here?” 

He continued to surprise her with his level of commitment and dedication overall. However, just as she was about to doubt he truly meant it, his mother’s words floated back to her mind. 

"Well, it wouldn't be here forever. Just till we found a new spot… something that's ours," he emphasized. “We’re gonna live together for at least 6 months in New York… if it works out and you don’t absolutely hate me by the end,” he joked, “Why not? What? You don’t think we should?"

She shrugged as she climbed back into his bed. “No, no, I’m not saying that at all. I mean I basically live here as it is,” she admitted. “I g-guess I just didn’t think about what living together in New York would mean for when we got back? Of course, you thought of it though. You think ahead and have a plan for everything.” 

Michael was glad she could not see his face as she settled against his chest. She truly had no idea how far ahead his planning went when it came to her. 

“Well, I just know what I want and I don’t believe in wasting time. But I’m not sayin’ you gotta decide now or anything. Let’s see how New York goes. I just wanted to see if you’d be interested in it.” 

“Yea, I’m interested.”

He nodded. “Now are you gonna tell me what you and my momma were talking about earlier? You looked upset?” 

Charlotte chuckled, she turned over so her chest was against his, her ear pressed against his chest. The light thumps of his heart filled her ear like a soothing drumbeat. “I should’ve known you weren’t gonna let that go… I wasn’t upset. She j-just said something I needed to hear.” 

She felt his lips press against the top of her head, her eyes falling closed for a moment. She appreciated that he did not press any further for information. 

“Yea, I don't know how she does that. It's kinda creepy, honestly… that mother's intuition."

“Yea, its like she sees into your soul or something." Her last words turned into a mumble as she yawned and her eyes fell closed.

All Michael could do was chuckle before kissing her forehead and falling asleep himself, her gentle snores filling his ears.

***

Charlotte glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window of their new apartment on the edge of the Upper West Side. It was as beautiful and pristine as the pictures Michael had shown her. They were high enough to have a great view of the city from their balcony. It was in the perfect location too for work and there was so much around for her and Michael to do. The furnishings were perfect, the exact mix of her and Michael’s individual interior style. She knew he hired a designer but it was clear the person knew their shit. The house already felt warm, cozy, and safe, all the things Charlotte needed, and they had only been in it for an hour.

“What are you thinking?” He asked from the couch as he scrolled through his phone, both of them avoiding the dreaded unpacking they had to do. 

“I’m thinking about my crappy little studio apartment when I first graduated… and my two bedroom with one of my college friends for those few months…” she paused, that apartment was a graveyard of bad memories. “Before I moved. I’ve j-just come up in the world, I guess.” 

Bakari beckoned her to him, the young woman leaving her perch against the window to join him. The moment she was in arm’s length, he gently pulled her down onto his lap, Charlotte nestling into him with ease. 

“This place is insane, Bakari. I mean I love it but I still think it’s too much,” she remarked, she raised her hands as if to surrender, knowing she was bringing up a touchy subject for them both. 

“Aht aht. We came to an agreement on that,” he lightly kissed her bare shoulder. 

She nodded, neither of them wanting to fall back into their first true argument of their relationship a few months earlier. 

“So what do you think?” 

Charlotte laughed. “I think I could fit 5 or 6 of my first apartment in that place,” she gestured toward his laptop as he flipped through photos of a high-rise three-bedroom apartment. “I mean it’s gorgeous but I don’t think I can afford it.” 

“Yea but I can. It’s perfect. Really solid security, there’s only one apartment on each floor so it’s pretty private. And it's only 15 minutes from the theaters so when you finish up evening shows, it’s not a long drive. It’s perfect for us. Don’t think about the cost. Do you like it?” 

“Yes, I love it but,” she chuckled. “Creed was my first real check in two years, babe. And I still gotta pay for my apartment here. I don’t really have the luxury of not thinking about the cost of things.” 

“Ok but I’m sayin’ you don’t have to think about it cause I got it.” 

“Well how much do you want me to contribute a month? If we go 50/50, it would be tight but I could swing it then, I guess.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “ I wasn’t expecting you to contribute anything. We ain’t roommates, Els.”  

She shook her head, pushing off of the couch to pace in his living room, her annoyance officially rising. Finances continued to be a touchy subject for the pair. However, usually, Charlotte only put up so much of a fight before she gave in. But she could not give in on this, not today. 

“It’s one thing for you to always pay for dinners and shit like that but you can’t pay all of our rent while we’re there. That’s ridiculous.” 

“Why can’t I?” He asked, his tone signaling that he did not understand the seriousness of the conversation for Charlotte in the slightest. He still did not quite understand her hang up with finances. He knew it was part of the cycle of abuse but he had no problem spending money on her if need be. She had only just stopped fighting him on paying for dates. Though he was not the type of celebrity who blew all of his money on frivolous things, Michael also did not pretend money was a significant consideration in his decisions because it just wasn’t. And he would never apologize for wanting to spend his money on her, for wanting to support her. 

“B-Because I…” Charlotte stopped herself from finishing the sentence, Don’t want you to be able to control me that way. But she knew that was not his way.“T-then it’s y-your house a-and not mine. I-I would just feel more comfortable i-if you let me contribute something. L-Let me pay for half? Besides, you’re gonna be in LA sometimes, full time in the summer. You shouldn’t pay the full amount every month like you’re gonna be there the whole time.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Charlotte. I don’t need your money and I don’t want it.” His tone signaled that he hoped to get the final word in and end the discussion.

She could not help but feel frustrated like he was not hearing her. But she understood why he did not see this situation through her eyes. “I-It’s not about you n-needing it!” She cried out, Michael suddenly realizing her unexpected outburst meant more simmered beneath the surface than her just wanting to contribute. She took a deep breath, not wanting to start an argument with him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” 

He rubbed her shoulders and nodded, “Ok just breath for a second, babe. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would bother you this much. I just.. I wanted you to have a serene, safe place to live and work while you’re there a-and I wasn’t gonna ask you to pay because money wasn’t a factor when I chose it. I just want you to be comfortable while we’re there.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She knew she shouldn’t push him on the finances piece so much. But she refused to ever let a man hold her livelihood over her head again. Where she laid her head was important and even though she stayed at Michael’s most of the time, she could at least retreat to her home if she ever needed it. She did not want the only place she had to lay her head to be not in her control at all. 

“Look, I-I appreciate it. That place is beautiful a-and perfect. I love it, truly. But… t-this is the first time I’m living with a guy since Shaun a-and the a-amount of times he held t-the fact that it w-was his h-house instead of mine o-over me…” she exhaled deeply as if she could release the memories into the air with her breath. “I-If I d-don’t contribute something then it’ll be your house and not ours. I k-know you don’t need it o-or want it. But I need it. I need it to feel like I have an equal claim to it. Please.”

At that, Michael decided not to push any further. He understood her triggers were real and legitimate and if it gave her a sense of autonomy and control to pay him, he would not let his ego get in the way of that. 

“Understood. I’m sorry,” he kissed her cheek. “I didn’t think about that. This’ll be our home and I want you to feel like it. How about you deal with all the utilities and I get the rent?”

She could not help but laugh a bit at his “compromise.” “Those things aren’t comparable at all, babe,” she muttered. 

“Monetarily? Nah. But what’s the point of an apartment without lights, wifi, gas, water?” he listed. “All of those are necessities too and without them, this would be a pretty terrible apartment.” 

They squared off for a moment before she nodded, realizing he budged about as far as he was willing to on the subject. 

“Deal.” 

“Deal.” 

“We came to an agreement, yes. But don’t think for a second I like it. Anytime you wanna accept that 50/50 split, let me know.” 

Michael gave her a peck on the nose. 

“Not gonna happen. Let me treat you to this one thing, baby. But what could happen is us christening some of this furniture?” His eyebrow raised suggestively, his intentions clear in his words. 

Charlotte smiled slyly. “I like the sound of that… if we start with the counter.” 

***

“Charlotte. Baby. Stop eating your breakfast like it’s a drive by. Sit, relax, and eat. You got plenty of time. Don’t have to be there for another hour.” 

Charlotte nearly catapulted out of bed that morning, a wrecking ball of nervous energy flitting around their apartment. Michael did not know how she was moving so quickly and chaotically, since all she did was toss and turn the night before. And as soon as the Sun was up, she was out of bed and out on a run through the neighborhood. And when she returned, their bed quickly turned into a wreckage of clothes, the young woman changing her outfit no less than 10 times. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Michael asked as Charlotte forced herself to sit at the island and eat Michael’s apple cinnamon pancakes, her favorite, and a couple pieces of bacon. Though this was her favorite breakfast meal, she found it difficult to eat, believing her time would be better served practicing or running her lines again rather than just sitting there. 

She scratched her head as she stuffed her face quickly, her eyes zooming across her sheet music. “Couple hours. Lots of tossing and turning before I just gave up and reviewed the music again.” 

Michael laughed, “You know every song by heart, even the ones that aren’t yours. You’re gonna be great today.”

She shrugged. “I don’t feel like it.” She glanced at her watch and bit her lip before abandoning her half eaten breakfast. “Thanks for this, Bakari, but I think I should go practice the songs one more time. The run in the Act I closer is fuckin’ killing me. I can’t get it just right a-and if Chris has us practice that part today, I don’t want to look stupid.” She paused her ranting to practice the chorus and run right there as she paced by the counter. She sounded flawless in Michael’s opinion but he could tell she hated it the way her whole face scrunched up in frustration. “See? Can’t get it. But you know… maybe I should practice my ballad first though… it would make sense he’d want to start there since it’s earlier in the show. Do I have time to do both…” She was no longer talking to Michael, only rambling and muttering to herself as her questions about which song to use her precious last few minutes to practice started to become inter spliced with actual lyrics from the songs as she studied the music while she walked through their home. “Babe! Have you seen my script?? Maybe I should  run through all my lines for Act 1?” She checked her watch. “I s-should’ve used the time last night to do that. UGH.”  

Her incoherent stream of consciousness and half singing were interrupted by Michael who put himself in the path of Hurricane Charlotte and their bedroom. Her favorite room to practice in was the bathroom because the acoustics were the best in the house. Imagine his confusion and slight amusement when, the first thing she did when they arrived after throwing her bags down, she started singing her ballad in every single room to test the sound quality before deciding the bathroom was the best option. 

It had not been 24 hours yet and he already learned one critical thing about her: she was a perfectionist chaotic nutcase. He had never seen this “behind the scenes” look into her process and work ethic. When they worked on Creed, she showed up to set every day the picture of an actor, in the zone, focused, and ready to work. He had never seen what it took to get to that picture and it was a perfect frenzy that he could not hope to understand or follow if he tried. 

And still, he found that her perfectionist nature that drove all the practice and ramblings only made him fall deeper in love with her. He imagined this is what he looked like to his friends and family when he was prepping for a role, so much energy and time spent to become someone else and embody their souls and personas. So much attention to detail and time rehearsing to give each moment in front of the camera your all. This was so much like that, and yet so much harder because Charlotte could not just yell cut to redo something. Every night she got on that stage, she had one opportunity to show her talent at its fullest. He could completely understand why she pushed herself as hard as she did. 

“Honeybee… you gotta calm down. No more practicing,” he grabbed the sheet music out of her hand, Charlotte offering mild protests as he walked to her bag and slid them inside, secretly adding a little card of his own. “You still have weeks of rehearsals. Keep doing this and you’ll lose your voice,” he warned, his lips twitching from the laugh he forced himself to stifle at the look of objective horror on her face, as if she had never even considered that was a possibility. But he imagined for her, losing her voice was the worst type of illness she could have. “Exactly. Rest the vocals for a bit. Sit, finish your breakfast and we’ll drive to the theater together.” 

With his hands on her hips, he steered her back to the island for the third time that morning and watched her sit down to resume eating, this time far slower and more measured. 

“You don’t gotta take me like a child headed to kindergarten for the first day, dad,” she bemused with a soft smile. “I’ll be good.” 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

She nodded, talk of Michael’s plans for the day filled the rest of breakfast before she grabbed her bag, filled with her script, sheet music, and mid-day snack. Michael had to stop her from triple checking her bag before he slid a perfectly made chai in her hands and ushered her out the door. 

He kept his hand on hers as their driver took them the short ride to Abernathy Theater. She had not told Michael but she had performed in this very theater in her very first Broadway production out of college. It felt like a full circle moment to be back there. 

“Ok, this is it, babe. You got this,” he kissed her on the lips. “Can’t wait to hear all about it tonight.” 

“Thanks, love. See you tonight.” She took a deep breath before gathering her things and exiting the car. 

Charlotte glanced back at the black car before she opened the theater door, the window rolled down, to find Michael giving her a thumbs up as if he knew she would need an extra push to walk through the door. She knew her nerves were somewhat foolish. She had spent the better part of her life in theaters and on the stage. And yet, she still felt like a fish outta water. So much time had passed, so much life had happened. Chris thought she still had what it took but would everyone else? She had given up this dream. And though she had never admitted this out loud, she felt so much shame for how easily she had casted it aside and resigned to leaving it to die behind her. As she walked through the theater, her first time in one in over two years, she questioned whether she even deserved this second chance at it after she had squandered the first one, regardless of her reasoning for doing so. 

But now as she walked through the theater, taking in the opulence of the insanely tall ceilings and their perfectly preserved murals, the dazzling gold arches and trims, and the sea of ruby-colored seats, she knew one fact to be true. No one and nothing would tear her away from this dream this time. She had breathed new life into it and she would not lose it again.

“Charlotte!” 

Her visual survey was interrupted by Chris who waved at her from the stage. She smiled and made quick work of making her way to the stage where he waited.

“It’s so good to see you,” he mused, pulling her into a tight hug. “The rest of the cast is trickling in. But I wanted to show you around personally and introduce you to everyone. I’ll take you backstage.”  

He looped his arm around hers and led her backstage, the two laughing and chatting like old friends as he took her around and introduced her to everyone. He was showing her her dressing room when a familiar man’s voice filled her ears. 

“The prodigal daughter of Broadway returns… You know I took bets on when you’d be back.” 

Charlotte whipped around to find Malcolm Roberts, one of her costars, leaning against the doorway, his usual sly smirk etched on his face. 

She sauntered up to him, a similar smirk falling on her face. “And? Is the Tony award winning Malcolm Roberts poorer or richer these days?” 

“Richer…” At her surprised expression, he shrugged. “I learned a long time ago to always bet on you.” 

She laughed and immediately pulled him into a tight hug, the man lifting her feet slightly off the ground. 

“It’s so good to see you. I owe you dinner so you can catch me up on everything,” he said as they hugged. “You look amazing, still as gorgeous as ever.”  

Malcolm had been in her last production before she moved. She followed his career after leaving theater and his star had only risen higher and higher, as he deserved. And now, he would be playing directly alongside her and she couldn’t have been more pleased. If there was one person she trusted undoubtedly to act alongside, besides Michael, it would be Malcolm. 

“Thank you! Should’ve known Chris would call in the heavyweight champ,” she laughed. 

He merely shrugged. “A friend calls and I answer. That's how he got you outta hibernation too?” He asked as they walked to the practice room for rehearsal, their banter drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the team as they worked to build the set and gathered props around them. 

 “Naturally. One day you’ll have to tell us how you convince everyone to do whatever you want?” Charlotte told Chris who merely smiled slyly. 

“Win me another Tony and I’ll tell all my secrets.” 

The two actors glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. “As if you need anymore!” 

“Does your house even have room for another one and that big head of yours?” Malcolm teased as Charlotte snorted. 

“Well, my partner says I can’t convert the kids’ room to a trophy room. So I guess when you two are done sweeping, I’ll have to buy a new house.” He winked at the both of them before grabbing his assistant director to chat, leaving Malcolm and Charlotte alone. 

“How was the move?” He asked as he interlaced his arm with Charlotte’s as they walked. 

“Oh totally fine. Michael took care of everything, of course. All I did was say yes or no.” 

“Ah yes, the new boyfriend, aka my wife and sister’s celebrity crush. Remind me never to invite the two of you over for dinner?” Charlotte let out a deep belly laugh. “But I’m glad to hear it. Looks like you found yourself a good one?” 

“Yea… I think I did.” 

She raised her eyebrow as he stopped walking to study her for a moment, his face drawn up in a look of pride and something else she could not place. Understanding? Knowing? She could not read it. However, before she could ask him, he merely patted her hand, which rested on his arm and said, “Well no one deserves that more than you.” 

Before she could inquire more, they arrived at their rehearsal space, each of them settling into their spots. Chris did quick work of introducing Charlotte to everyone else who she hadn’t met and embarrassing her with his praise. She was thankful when it was all over and everyone started to pull out their scripts and sheet music to run through Act I. 

As she pulled out her materials, a small card fell out of the stack and onto the table. She picked it up and examined the card, Honey Bee written out on the front in Michael’s handwriting. She half listened to Chris share notes and information from the last rehearsal as she slid the stationary out of its envelope. 

I would say good luck but I know you don’t need it. You’re gonna kill it, as you always do, and remind everyone there today and in this world, who you are. Take a deep breath and remember you, not only deserve this moment but, you were made for it.

Love, 

Your biggest fan  

If she had not been in a room filled with people, she would have bursted into tears. She slid the note back in her bag after reading it once more and taking the deep breath he instructed her to. She grabbed her phone as the cast started the table read and sent a quick but simple text. 

Thank you ♥️♥️

She knew she did not need to elaborate and that he would recognize the meaning. Not a whole minute passed before her phone buzzed with a similar simplistic response. 

Anytime. 

***

A month later

“Oof, that’s it. That’s the right spot,” Charlotte moaned as Michael massaged her aching limbs. “You got the magic touch, baby.” Her eyes lulled closed as he did the Lord’s work, kneading and massaging the tense spots on her legs and back after another long day of rehearsals. "First show is in two days and I can barely feel my legs.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of her spine before continuing his work. 

Though Charlotte did not mind the quiet, the silence that settled over them both as he worked, she found it odd. Most evenings, she and Michael never stopped talking, the pair catching the other up on any and everything from the moment she walked into the door until the moment they fell asleep. However, today, Michael’s head seemed to be elsewhere. 

“You ok?” She inquired. 

“Y-Yea, yea. I’m good.” 

She laughed. “I know you well enough to know when you’re good, Bakari. What’s wrong?” She gestured for him to move so she could sit up. She slid her robe over her nude body and slid into his lap.

“I just had an interesting call with Ryan today.” 

“Oh? Got another project for you?” 

“Actually, yea.” 

She motioned for more details, unsure why he was being so coy and secretive. “Ok… you gotta give me more than that, babe. What’s the role? And why are you acting like he threatened to kill you?” 

“It’s a Marvel project.” 

Her eyes immediately grew wide. She gracefully tumbled out of his lap and onto her knees, excitement filling her previously lethargic body. While she had only just started to get into anime thanks to Michael, both of them bonded over their love for comics. Growing up with her brother, she and Jackson spent far too much time in the comic book store and she made a point to see every Marvel movie that came out. 

“It’s Black Panther, isn’t it??” She squealed, her excitement radiating off of her. 

“How’d you guess that so fast??” 

She scoffed and smiled. “Marvel’s been talking to Black directors for months for that project. A-and Civil War is coming out soon with Chadwick. Ohh,” she shook his shoulders. “You HAVE to do it, baby.” 

He laughed, getting up to go into their in-suite bathroom. “You don’t even know what the role is, love.” 

She shrugged, following behind him with an extra pep in her step. She did not understand how he wasn’t more excited about this. 

“I mean I could sit here and go through all the Black Panther comic lore if you’d like and guess. But that’ll just make you horny,” she teased, knowing Michael got a little too excited when she put on her nerdy hat and talked comics. “And my legs hurt too much for acrobatics with you today. Why aren’t you excited? You said yes, right?? He wouldn’t’ve called unless the role was yours.” 

He pushed himself up to sit on the bathroom counter. “I want to say yes, the role is fantastic a-and his vision is spectacular. I s-spent the whole day reading up on the character and everything. It would be a game changer for sure.” 

“Of course it would. But I sense a but coming?” Her hands inched up his warm bare chest and wrapped around his neck as she stood between his legs. 

“I’d have to go back to LA for a couple days to screen test with Chad and a couple of the other confirmed actors, meet with the execs… and between Kevin Feige’s schedule, Ryan’s and Chadwick’s… only one week before like June works for everyone.” 

At the annoyed and guilty look on his face, Charlotte immediately understood. “Opening weekend of the show?” She prayed she was wrong but at the small nod, she let out a disgruntled sigh. 

“Yea. A-and I don’t want to miss that, Els. It’s such a big deal and I moved here to be all in on us and support you. I asked Ryan if we could find a different date or if we could do something out here instead but I dunno yet. I didn’t want to mention it because I didn’t want to disappoint you if it’s not a sure thing.” 

“Babe. I so appreciate you and that you even thought to consider me and the show before saying yes. But you can’t put your career on hold for me. This is the MCU, babe, I would miss opening night of my own show for Kevin Feige. You have to go.”

Michael’s jaw almost unhinged at her statement. That was not what he was expecting at all. And when he searched her face for a hint of disappointment or sadness, he failed to find any. Her joy for him was natural and authentic, not the forced type people give when they are trying to hide their own emotions. 

“What??” 

“I’m joking,” she amended but she quickly shook her head. “Actually I’m not. I would totally ditch schmoozing investors and the nausea of waiting for reviews for Marvel,” she laughed. “Seriously though, I’m gonna be doing 8 shows a week for months. You’ll see me on stage so many times, you’ll get sick of my voice and the show. You don’t have to be there opening night to support me. Honestly, I’d rather have you there the first night of previews in a couple days so you can see me on stage for the first time anyway. Opening night is only a big deal in that critics can finally review the show. And there’s a party for the cast and producers and investors and all that shit. You moved across the country to support me. That’s all I need.”

She walked back into their bedroom and grabbed his phone, her slippers shuffling lightly against the floor as she went.. She held it out to him. “Call Ryan.” 

“Babe… I just don’t feel right abandoning you on such a big night.” 

She tilted her head to study him. She found that she was not just saying those words because she knew she should not stop him from pursuing an opportunity. She actually meant it. Now that she was back in the swing of things, her anxiety had eased quite a bit. It had only been a few weeks but she had not seen or heard a peep out of Shaun, her promo for the show being reduced to one mention in a Broadway.com article, thankfully. And she knew she would have to handle a few days here and there without him before they got there. It was still early so she was still beyond thankful to have him there, but she could survive a couple days without him if he was needed elsewhere.   

“You aren’t abandoning me. You’re following your dreams, you’re moving your career forward. Ryan picked you, the role is yours. Meeting with the execs and a couple screen tests are the only hurdles you gotta clear. And you shouldn't put that off. Would I love to look out into that crowd and see you opening night, sure. But would I prefer to see you snag a killer role in what is already a highly anticipated project, 100%. I know you’ll be there in spirit.”

“You sure you aren’t gonna secretly hate me?” 

“I could never hate you. Besides, shit like this is gonna happen… we’re both two busy body ass actors. We aren’t always gonna be able to be there physically but I know you’ll be cheering me on as I will for you.” 

His phone still hovered in her hand between them, Charlotte giving him an cocky grin before unlocking it and finding Ryan’s number for him. 

“You sure?” 

“I’m giving you the push you gave me. Call him and tell him he’s got his Killmonger. Hopefully he doesn’t bust your fuckin’ ear drums like Chris did mine.” 

His eyes grew wide. “How’d you do that shit?? I never even said his name.” 

She chuckled as she turned to walk back into their room, her shoulders shrugged. “It was a lucky guess… that you just confirmed,” she smirked at him. “Now…” she sexily allowed her robe to open and slide off her shoulders, the silk fabric pooling to the floor around her feet. “Don’t stay on the phone with him too long.”

He raised an eyebrow suggestively, his thumb hovering over the call button. “I thought you were too tired?” 

She shrugged. “Consider it the last bit of encouragement you need to make that call.” She winked at him before sauntering off to their bed, delighting in the way his eyes followed her perfect ass as she climbed onto their bed. 

***

“Well, I think that part could use a bit more emotion from both of us?” Charlotte remarked as she and Malcolm reviewed their notes from earlier in the day. 

The stage was filled with chaos as many in the company practiced off to one side while the staging and lighting folks tried to get everything ready for their last rehearsal before previews started the next evening. Rebecca and Jonathan, the supporting actors in the play, were tucked in a corner just like Malcolm and Charlotte reviewing their lines. 

“For sure. We shouldn’t hold back. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years. All that pent up aggression and anger and hurt… it really should feel like something is simmering beneath the surface and then an explosion on stage before the number.” 

Before Charlotte could agree with him and practice a bit more, Chris’s voice grabbed their attention. 

“Heads up, everyone! So don’t hate me. But a lot of the investors can’t make previews tomorrow night but they want a peek before opening night so they asked if they could sit in on rehearsal after the producers’ meeting happening upstairs. Should be wrapping up in about 15 minutes. So we will have a small but mighty,” he emphasized, “Audience today. So everyone should give this their all and we’re gonna do it in our costumes. Go get changed. Sorry for the change of plans.”

Light mumbles and grumbles could be heard through the company as everyone filed back into their dressing rooms. Charlotte and Malcolm merely shared a smirk, the actor whispering to Charlotte, “The investors and producers say jump…” 

“And we say ‘how high?” she grimaced with an eye roll before shutting the door to her dressing room. This was the only part of her job she hated, schmoozing people whose only credentials for being there was the hefty check they wrote. Charlotte’s outfit was quick work, a simple dress, cardigan, and heels so it did not take long for her to change. 

She sang a few chords to herself, warming up her voice, while she waited for the backstage cue to return to the wings of the stage. When the lights flashed, she made her way to the wings, stopping by Malcolm who had his face drawn up in a grimace. She was thankful to find another actor who also hated the politics of it all. She followed his line of sight to the parted curtains, revealing center stage where Chris stood with a group of men in suits. They quickly reminded her of all of the men she met at Shaun's office parties and events, her distaste had not changed. Most of their backs were turned to them until Chris noticed the entire company was assembled and waiting and waved them over. 

“Let the jumping begin,” Malcolm moaned lightly as they all started walking toward the group of powerful and wealthy men. 

“And these are the stars of our show, Charlotte Bennett, Malcolm Roberts, Rebecca Sloan, and Jonathan Rivers,” Chris gestured toward all of them, the group turning around to greet them. 

However, the bright smile that Charlotte put on as she pulled on her dazzling actress persona immediately fell as her eyes locked with one of the men. Her movements halted, her entire body going cold and rigid as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on her. 

Everything around her went silent as if someone had pressed the mute button, she could not even hear her pounding heart in her ears. But she could feel it, beating against her rib cage as it threatened to burst out of her chest. She forgot where she was, who she was, as he offered her a menacing and knowing smirk. 

Instinctively, she took a step back, increasing the distance between them as the rest of the cast continued forward to introduce themselves. Only one person noticed her change in demeanor, her low, shallow breaths that were drowned out by pleasantries and greetings. 

Malcolm touched her shoulder, Charlotte almost jumping out of her skin with shock, finally taking her eyes off of a man she never expected to see here of all places, in her safe space. 

“You good? Look like you saw a ghost,” he chuckled nervously, though his eyes were filled with concern.

Her mouth felt bone dry, the words caught in her throat but she forced them out anyway. 

“No, no. Not a g-ghost. J-just…” she shook her head. “I… um, just need a minute? Tell C-Chris I’m r-running to the b-bathroom. N-not feeling great.” 

She turned and rushed out of the theater, her legs carrying her as fast as they could without breaking into an all out run until she found herself near a concession stand in the deserted lobby.  She needed as much distance as she could between herself and him. She stopped and leaned against the counter, her hand pressed into her chest as she tried to calm herself. She wondered if she would have rather seen an actual ghost. That would have been less terrifying than what awaited her back in that theater, a different monster haunting her from her past. 

Shaun Parker. 

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh

***

A/N: So good news… we got some fluff!! Bad news… some niggas we don't like have found their way back. Thanks for reading! *drops this off and runs away*

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #michael b jordan fanfic #creed iii #michael b jordan smut #mbj fanfic #mbjedit

[golbrocklovely]

letting you know this that shifting anon! i tagged you in my post because it’s too much for the ask box 😭

sorry for not responding sooner. i had a crazy day at work and was just super tired haha

i'm gonna respond to your post here instead of in replies or a reblog.

so when i was in school, i was able to get my work done on time. i'm kinda worse now with time management, but if i know i have to get something done, i'll get it done by the date it needs to be done at. even if that means struggling the whole time to get it done fast enough lol

idk what types of flowers they were, and having been on that campus (at that point) almost four years, they NEVER died like that before. and there's no way someone burned it without there being some form of message sent out to campus. plus by spring they grew back. so it was just so odd that they all of sudden died when they were alive literally the day before.

to give some slight more background into what i audition for and whatnot, so i audition, back to back days the previous week for a musical and play. the play, i had a gut feeling i wasn't gonna get strictly bc i was the first person sent home lol the musical on the other hand, i went thru callbacks and shit like that so i was a bit confused as to why i didn't even get considered or whatnot. but the director, who was also my advisor, ended up picking her own child and her friends to be in the show. so…. nepotism at it's finest.

and to be a skeptic on my own end: while i don't think it was a manic thing, bc even after i graduated and really sat with the fact i wasn't gonna have another show or two to add to my name, i still really wasn't upset about it. it was weird as hell how pippy skippy i became after getting the news when 10/10 times i usually would be upset, beat myself up over it, and cry.

but…. it's possible that i realized how lucky i got. bc the play i auditioned for, the director for that i had worked for once. i wasn't in a production, but i was her assistant and then became a stage manager. and let me tell you, that woman did not, at any given point, have her shit together. like, if you feel like your life is messy, you don't even hold a CANDLE to her mess. so i wasn't too heartbroken over not being in that show. then the musical… again, i think it was realizing i didn't have to worry about the director, who was also my advisor… who barely did any advising. i could spend the rest of my senior year in peace and just do whatever i wanted to. i only talked to her once or twice afterwards and that was bc of a senior project i had to do that she graded and passed me on.

my advisor/director, i'm telling you, had object permance problems when it came to me. there had been multiple times when she wouldn't even tell me there were auditions so the night before i would scramble to learn and entirely new song just to go perform it the next day. that happened multiple times. and just to add some more context for fun, her husband was the music director. so he dealt with the music side, she directed the actors. we did a production of into the woods. i auditioned, got callbacks, genuinely thought i had a chance at a major role, only to not get it. and i remember being outside the theater when they were practicing, i think bc i had a class in that same building. he came out, said hi to me, we chatted for a quick second, and then he very softly said to me "i'm sorry you didn't make it in… you should have" or something like that and then walked off.

so….. she might have just hated me for some reason lol so that could be why i was able to be like "you know what, i'm very happy i'm not dealing with you anymore."

but it didn't make sense how quickly i became happy. bc as someone that has suffered with depression since i was kid (and also didn't know i was suffering at the time this took place), happiness is not something that comes easily to me. i can be happy for a brief moment, sure. but i was giddy, and that itself was jarring to me then and still now.

and yeah my mom saying that to me was super creepy but also weirdly comforting. i never found out what was off, but it was just like a general feeling of things feeling out of place somehow.

and oh i didn't know that. i thought shifting was just a sleeping thing. well, that's cool to know :)

#ask #personal

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

[mrdanielbond]

Wild Nights, Wild Hearts (One-Shot?)

“Mystery man”

[Main characters: Mikael Blomkvist X Reader]

Plot: It is time to head back to work as a lecturer at your university after a successful first semester. Unfortunately for you, one of your guest lecturers is a familiar face from a wild night out…

[A/N: Wrote this ages ago and thought, hey why not? Okay, so I don’t know if this is going to be an actual thing. Like I assume it’s going to be a one-shot. Plus, in all fairness, Mikael is my favourite non-Bond character of Daniel’s, so I thought it’s time to appreciate this man in all his glory. I hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think?]

Music continued to boom through the speakers. The flashing lights and smoke was intense, but you didn’t care. As long as you were still with your friends, celebrating a birthday amongst the group, that's all that mattered. What also helped was the fact your sultry look managed to get you quite a few free drinks from the bartender. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, often keeping a natural look. However, this was your friend and co-worker’s birthday. You wanted to spice things up and look incredible for her. Of course, when Maisie saw you for the first time, she was surprised. In fact, her jaw dropped at how glamorous you looked. “Girl what the HELL! After Florence Pugh, you are a woman I’d proudly fuck.” You remember her particularly saying and that was the start of an incredibly wild night.

“Javier, can I get another tequila please!” You scream with excitement at the bar, Javier proudly pours you your sixth tequila shot.

“This one’s on the house my darling,  Y/N.” He pushed the shot glass in front of you and your eyes widen with excitement. You had to admit, you do have a thing for tequila so this man feeding you free drinks made the night all the better.

“You spoil me.” You winked as you took the shot and walked off to join the rest of your friends.

The night followed with more dancing and more drinks between your friends. At some point on the floor, you started to get tired and your craving for more drinks kicked in because you found yourself at the bar once again. This time you were looking for something more than a shot. “Okay, so it’s like a sex on the beach but like so much fruiter, like with strawberries!” You tried to explain but in your drunken state, Javier couldn’t help but laugh as he struggled listening to you.

“You know what? You tell me what to do and I’ll make it for you.” He said and a devious grin appeared on your face. So you watched, instructing him on how to make your special cocktail and when he finished, he threw a small umbrella inside it to serve you. You sipped it and couldn’t help but moan. It was glorious...Well maybe it would’ve been if you could taste it at all.

“Can I have what she’s having?” A baritone voice said beside you. You turned with your eyebrow raised. “And I’ll pay for hers.”

He reached into his wallet, still looking into your eyes as he handed Javier his card. You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the fact you were practically pushed against each other with how packed the bar was but this man was...incredibly handsome. Rugged dirt blonde hair, bright blue eyes that gave you butterflies and his dark blue shirt didn’t help as you couldn’t help but stare at his chest from time to time. Javier turned back to make your drink for the stranger and handed it over to him. “If you’re going to have a cocktail, you’ve got to get it right. Strawberries with the ice.” He said with a smirk but you couldn’t hear him. Not with the music blasting over you...and his dreamy eyes. “What?” You tried to shout out. “I said-” He could barely get a word out in all the noise and you could see it. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to a quieter table in the corner. “That’s better - wow.” He suddenly stopped himself when he took another look at you. “You’re really beautiful.” “Smooth.” You chuckled. Alright, so at this point, usually you would say thanks and dip to find your friends. However, this man, bless him, appeared mesmerized by you. He was in awe of you and not just looking at your chest or your figure as though he were some creep. You both hadn’t realised you were still holding hands, leaning into each other.

“Hey, that’s unfair! I’m not usually bold with women.” Something about the mystery man was telling you he was honest. “The strong and silent type is full of surprises.” He said and you swear to god, you could see even he knew what he was doing with that statement. To be honest, he was right. With those eyes, he wouldn’t have to say a single word to get you to go home with him. Throughout the night, you both kept rambling to each other about everything and nothing but you were both having fun, laughing together and putting each other at ease. Your friends must’ve noticed you because they were all staring at the two of you in awe, sharing drinks together, leaning into each other. Then ‘Someone New’ by Hozier began to play. Oh no. Any slow song that played while you were next to a man was a recipe for disaster. The mystery man ,on his high, pulled you closer. “Oh no, I can’t go out there!” You said. “Come on, what happened to that confidence I saw earlier?!” He laughed. “Listen, I can pick and choose when I want to be brave!” You snapped back. “Why are you so bold all of a sudden?!” “What can I say? You bring out a new side to me.” He laughed and before you could fight back, he managed to bring you to the floor. You couldn’t tell him why this was a bad idea but...maybe it wasn’t now you were in his arms, moving around the floor. He held you close and you didn’t want to leave. Not with the high of the drinks and after such a good night filled with laughter. Who knows? Maybe when you wake up the next day, you’d regret it. But for now, you were going to appreciate being here with him...but now you were filled with anticipation, you were craving something. Uh oh. You were craving him. Suddenly, a surge of confidence filled you and you looked up at him. He had already been looking at you. Quickly, he leaned in and you found yourselves kissing with a raw, fiery passion that remained unmatched. You could tell how much he wanted you. In fact, you could feel it as he pressed you against him. But you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair, now the heated kiss becoming lazy until you bit his lip, catching him by surprise. When you pulled back breathlessly, he smirked. “Oh shut up, I know what you’re going to say.” You playfully pushed his chest.

The hangover the next day was going to be ridiculous but you didn’t care. The mystery man had you all over him, and he? All over you.

Rain violently bounced against the wall of your office. Across you sat Maisie, who happened to be an English lecturer. You were one of the lecturers, who had just finished your PHD in Media and Cultural Studies and when offered a job at the university, you couldn’t help yourself but stay. It was decent pay after all and after three years with the university, you realised your students loved you. There were wild lecturers in the school of arts department, who overshared and gladly you weren’t one of them but your students knew you well enough to seem relatable. However, you were hoping that today they would not quiz you on your hangover. Especially your seminar classes, they really loved hearing whatever you went through. Right now, you sat at the table, head against the desk of your office while Maisie watched you groan. “Oh my god.” Was all you could mumble. This was not how you wanted to spend your first week back of the second semester. Your head was pounding violently, you were nauseous, stomach turning. The only thing saving you was the cup of coffee you had in hand, after being forced to take an espresso shot, you were still practically dead. Maisie simply sat there shaking her head. God, she had no right to judge you after goading you into going out. “You should have known not to go hard on the drinks!” “But...free…” The words fell from your lips. “Javier gives free drinks all the time, I’m surprised it doesn’t get him fired. You should’ve known, he did this last time. Actually, that reminds me, where did you go last night?” And then you remembered. You went off with a mystery man, an incredibly handsome mystery man. That, you were fortunate enough to remember. With your head against the table, you smirked, so your friend wouldn’t see. “Don’t pretend as if we didn’t see you walking off and kissing that man, who by the way is a huge score! We spent all night fangirling about him.” Maisie said with excitement but all you could do was groan again, “Come on! You have to tell me! What happened?” “Nothing happened.” You mumbled into your arms. Okay something happened but you still didn’t want to say anything. “Don’t lie to me! You have to tell me, it was my birthday, meaning you have to tell me what YOU did on my day!”

You still refused to move. As your knight in shining armour, the Head of Faculty, Andrew stormed into the room, coffee mug and binder in hand. “Right! Who’s ready for a day full of learning ladies!” Maisie laughed as all you could let out was a groan. “Oh, not you too!” He let out an irritated huff. “This is ridiculous. Seems like there’s a lot of hangovers going around this morning.” “Really?” Maisie said, leaning forward with excitement. “Yeah, I just got off the phone with the guest lecturer. He is bloody hungover too. Could hear it in his voice.” Shit. Guest lecturer. One of the senior lecturers decided to go on a research leave mid-year, which didn’t help your cause as you were left with over one hundred students needing attention. That is when the head of faculty, Andrew, who you adored, decided to call in a guest lecturer, an industry expert in the field to provide you with support. Only thing is, Andrew was unpredictable, so you didn’t know who he had in store. You only knew he was a pretty popular journalist in Europe. Weren’t you supposed to be meeting him before the class? “He said he’s going to be running late.” Thank god for that. You didn’t need Andrew screaming at you about representing the university under a negative light. Before Andrew could get to scolding you, however, your alarm went off. Swiftly, you jumped up and swiped all your folders. “Class! Got to get to class!” Was all you could muster before leaving the room, and your colleagues, incredibly shocked.

Students filled the lecture hall for the first lesson of the semester, which didn’t surprise you. There were a lot of familiar faces as usual. A couple of new ones but most of the students knew when you were out of it and these were the ones present. Andrew followed you in, watching intently, hoping you wouldn’t screw this up. But everyone knew the rules. The moment your mug was placed against the desk, everyone was silent, eagerly listening to hear from you. “Morning everyone! Welcome back, I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas break! Just know that for many of you who took my module last year, yes, I am currently in the process of grading your assignments and the results will be distributed next week. However, I am not here to talk about that. Right now, it is time to turn over a new page! So, for those of you that don’t know me, I am Dr. Y/N Y/LN. I am totally cool without the whole formal title and I am a lecturer in Media and Cultural studies and welcome to my module Introduction to Investigative Journalism. This is where we’ll be in touch with some of the world’s most notorious cases from the role investigative journalism played in the portrayal of criminals from the likes of Charles Ponzi, Pablo Escobar, Charles Bronson to female serial killers such as Velma Barfield and Judy Buenoano. We will be looking at cold cases such as the murder of Olof Palme to the story of D.B. Cooper and corruption amongst transnational and multinational companies such as the fall of Wennerstrom. I know this feels like a criminology course and having the stomach would be ideal, however this is incredibly interesting if you want to look into serious crimes and learn about political corruption. I mean I didn’t have the stomach at first but you learn to live with it.” The students laughed. Andrew was in awe of how professional you managed to be but then again that is why the university needed you. They knew you were the young voice they needed to liven things up and get students intrigued, no matter how hungover or ill you were. “ Now, as you know, Dr. Woodbridge has taken a research leave so today, I believe that Andrew has called in a guest lecturer who will be here throughout the second half of the module to provide support and as an industry expert will hopefully be able to answer the questions you all will have.”

Andrew stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear as he headed to the centre. He gave you a wink to praise the way you pulled yourself together and turned to the rest of the class. “Thank you very much, Y/N. Couldn’t have introduced the module better myself, you have me excited and I’m not even taking it! Anyway, without further ado, I am honoured to introduce to you all your guest lecturer today, he is an investigative journalist and co-owner of Swedish magazine, Millennium, Mikael Blomkvist!” The class gave an applause and so did you as the man walked through the door. Then your applause slowed...hang on a minute. Why did the name Mikael sound familiar? Mikael walked in with a smile, waving at the glass, sporting glasses and a warm cardigan, smiling but then he turned to you and then it hit you. This was YOUR mystery man!

#mikael blomkvist #daniel craig #mikael blomkvist x reader #the girl with the dragon tattoo #crime #fan fiction #romance #daniel craig x reader #james bond #James Bond 007

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

#yancy x yn #yancy x reader #yancy x male reader #yancy x trans male reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm fanfiction #otp: don't want to be free #self ship fanfic #self shipping fanfiction #self shipping fic

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

[yunsoh]

s3 episode 3 thoughts and oh boy!!! trio time. disaster siblings + yuki time.

- man have i missed the student council. just wow have i missed them 

- tbh my first thought is just how cute kimi is at the start of this ep. also i love that she and yuki have this same problem with the seniors suddenly confessing their love/trying to ask them out before they graduate and while yuki’s sitting here like “i can only hurt their feelings :(” kimi’s straight up like “let them throw a pity party!! whatever” queen

- and of course “what makes a guy attractive is his bank account 💖” fave. and kakeru agreeing with “true facts” god the two of them. mhm.

- the way that kimi decimates nao’s entire life and career in one fell swoop. get his ass. also i find it endlessly funny that nao has a crush on minagawa of all girls because she is point blank the most obnoxious girl in the whole school. like it just seems like he wouldn’t have the patience for her at all LMAO but i guess crushes just do that to your brain sometimes

- the girls calling machi scary for knocking over a bunch of chalk while being dead fuckin silent on haru literally destroying their classroom. actually not even dead quiet the girls literally cleaned up after him. hot privilege. 

- i’m endlessly curious about how this rumor about machi trying to kill her little brother even got around like. i have to assume it was something that slipped from either her parents or kakeru’s mom to other parents of kids who go to the same school/adjacent schools. because obviously it did not come from kakeru and he’s the only other person who knows yk.

- kakeru: *sulks*

- machi: *trots*

- ugh man it’s machi’s parents just continuing to put her own feelings in her mouth and never once letting her have control over her own personhood, down to displaying her thoughts or emotions. “you’ll be more comfortable alone.” also her dad saying that he assumed that machi might try to hurt her brother and treating that as the truth because she’s never had the space to become an individual to them separate from what they project onto her. how much can you hate your child actually.

- also find it interesting that kakeru has never fully questioned whether or not machi actually tried to kill her brother. when he says it to yuki, he says “what those girls said is pretty close to the truth.” and when yuki says he finds it hard to believe, kakeru says he “may be right,” since it’s just the version of the story he heard from his parents. but all things considered i don’t think he’s necessarily ever believed it to be true; he’s just never been able to see machi’s side of the story because she’s been fully closed off to confiding in him, which is mostly because she feels as though she won’t be listened to or understood anyway thanks to the treatment she’s had from her parents.

- that said. kakeru go to jail

- it’s about yuki feeling comfortable enough to engage in physical acts of friendship without so much as thinking about it. yeah :)

- i do find it interesting that kakeru remembers this moment of machi making footprints in the snow when they were younger. it’s something that would probably be easily forgettable but it stuck with him because even he found something a little off about it.

- this whole minute is just such a whirlwind. the little arrows pointing to yuki. machi trying to slam the door on them. kakeru dragging yuki in to the point that he’s tripping over his own feet. yuki calling it the sea of decay with sincerity but machi has no idea what the context is. the bra. machi about to throttle yuki. kakeru finally fucking leaving after getting hit and still being a shit. this all happens in like forty seconds.

- her best quality: her squiggles 

- oh this visual of her having to walk this tightrope with her mom. interesting

- also interesting how young machi sounds in this scene where her mom is talking down on her to another person. i know she must be in her first or second year of middle school (just because kakeru was in middle school when he finally got out of the inheritance situation) but it really drives home just how young she was.

- also heartbreaking because this is a moment where machi is trying to stand up for herself and asking why her mom is saying those things about her when she’s the one who shaped her this way, and she’s just so thoroughly shut down by her that she can’t cope.

- i thought this shot was adapted well, although i think the scene itself is kind of confusing -- in the manga, it’s insinuated that she has this breakdown moment right after this conversation with her mom, and that it’s the first time she reacts this destructively (in the manga her outfit is the same between shots, and it doesn’t appear that she’s in her own apartment yet -- it’s more ambiguously just a home office). here though they change it so that it’s a more recent event -- more like she’s reacting this way because she’s remembering this conversation, rather than reacting directly after it. the outfit she wears in this scene is the same one she wears when her parents are accusing her of trying to hurt her brother, too; it’s also reasonable to read this as her having a breakdown after being left alone in her apartment for the first time. to the team’s credit her window is also broken in the season 2 ep where we see her apartment for the first time, so we can assume that they made this change deliberately.

- yuki is so genuinely kind as usual, but it’s also because he does have a thread of personal understanding of where she’s coming from. he also suffered from being held to an incredibly high standard and was similarly emotionally neglected because of this, but it’s also something he’s come to terms with and has started to heal and move on from. so he’s at a place where he’s able to give her some comfort. even just the simple act of praise for still being here, and just being herself, is something that is so desperately needed.

- kakeru listening in..... boy take ur notes

- literally yuki is like the epitome of being machi’s senior like this moment is just sooo gentle but also protective i think. like he’s really just taking the helm where kakeru has been unable to all this time. he’s her mentor in a way. 

- kakeru’s goofy fucking ringtone and the animation that goes with it. love that

- the chalk-breaking scene did change the game. yuki is just completely on for her to the point that he doesn’t even stop what he’s saying to consider it. he’s just really looking out for her :’(

- rest of the ep under the cut because i know this is gonna be about minagawa lmfao

- oh this new scene is cute? love kyo actually helping out + uo and hana just fucking chilling. also uo hana and yuki only giving a fuck about tohru while kyo falls from like eight feet up.

- yuki literally only coming in for that second lmfao king

- i knew that this would be the minagawa ep and yet when yuki said he had an appointment i was like...... are you....... going to the doctor’s for some reason....... this is a weird reboot addition..............

- the beginning of this scene is weeeeeird what a weird transition to minagawa. also this feels super jarring and i knew this was coming?? like there’s no setup for this being a goodbye to minagawa she’s just suddenly sitting there getting super nostalgic 

- i am grateful though that they didn’t split the time these chapters got completely 50-50. minagawa only getting like five minutes of screentime before gong away forever feels apt.

- minagawa really is just here to say “thank you yuki for being the center of my harassment campaign on the general student body here for these past two years” before bouncing. this isn’t even a point of character development she literally didn’t learn anything.

- the pacing of this feels so WEIRD like. on the one hand, glad it’s only five minutes. on the other hand why was it included at all. it really dampers the rest of the ep and just feels super distracting.

- the dramatic music....... the dramatic flashbacks......... i mean it tracks for her but i just cannot take it seriously lmaooo

- wow the way this is delivered just makes this scene with minagawa feel extra undeserved. like even more so than in the manga. that’s pretty incredible.

- am i going to sit here and make mental parallels between the fact that neither minagawa nor machi actually know yuki personally. like they’ve both been observing him from afar this whole time. like is that the parallel i’m supposed to draw this episode that both of these girls have crushes on him but he hasn’t actually divulged anything personal to either of them. idk. like i know the answer is no and that it’s more fodder for him having a romance plot and whatever but. idk!

- what is happening what is happening what is happening

- this departing song + the shots of the empty school feels so fucking weird. we’re saying goodbye to minagawa and takei. what is being imparted emotionally does not match the actual narrative we are receiving. also feels weird to put a scene with this much “goodbye” emotion in the third episode?

- did i just fast forward through this nao and minagawa scene. maybe.

- oh that’s right we also get hiro at the end of this chapter too. and kagura talking about rin. this pacing is weird

- it still baffles me that rin was able to graduate how tf did she manage that

- wow i really wish these last parts of the ep were moved to the next episode or something. they feel really out of place squashed into the end here. this rin bit definitely deserved more time to let the weight sink in.

#fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #surprisingly felt like i didn't talk too much about this ep #probably because i've talked about all this stuff w machi to death already

[iadoreyouharry]

His Reputation

summary: Y/N and Harry are in High School. The two of them absolutely hate each other but have to work together at an English assignment. 

pairings: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: Angst and swearing. 

word count: 3,6K words

a/n : To be honest, i don’t really know if i like it that much, but i still wanted to share it with you! Please let me know if you liked it! :)

Today was the first day of senior year. Y/N couldn’t be any happier about finally starting her last year. She was over with this shit show of a school. First of all, Y/N didn’t have many friends. She tried to make them, but they were mostly put off by her appearance. She mostly wore dark clothes and didn’t always have a smile on her face. She barely put any effort into her make-up, only some mascara what was smeared out at the end of the day. 

But nonetheless Y/N had one best friend. It was hard for Y/N to open up to people and she could be cold and distant to a stranger at first, but if you get her to trust you she was literally a sweetheart. And so, it happened to be that Y/F/N won the trust of Y/N. 

In contrast to Y/F/N, Harry Styles was the person Y/N would never trust, even if he was the last person to exist on this planet. The hatred towards him was big. 

Harry Styles was a captain of the High School football team and was pretty popular. Freshman guys looked up to him, they aspired to be as good as him in Football one day. And the girls would drool all over him in the hallways. Even though he got a generous choice for girls he was still single. Some people said he didn’t want to have a relationship because he focused too much on football, others said he might be dating someone secretly. Y/N didn’t care about all this bullshit over Harry. She lived her life without having to obsess over a stinky football guy. The funny thing, she was the only one.

“How can you not like him?” Y/F/N asked Y/N. 

“How could you like him?” Y/N responded. “He is so full of himself, I’d almost think he wants to marry his self later.” Y/N chuckled when she saw him looking in the tiny mirror in his locker, fixing his hair. “Why would he care so much about his hair, god damn.” 

Y/N closed her locker and walked away from the scene. Girls were admiring from a little distance, but all you can do was find the nearest bathroom to puke. 

Harry tried sometimes to talk to Y/N, but it was short conversations. Y/N would respond back with short and cold answers and would cut off the conversation immediately. 

Y/N may hate Harry, but Harry did find Y/N interesting. He was confused as why she didn’t like him? How could someone not like him? He knew he was handsome and attractive; how could she not see it. But because she didn’t like him Harry felt more attracted to her. She was mysterious and he liked it. He only didn’t show it. After trying to talk nicely to her, and not succeeding, he became cold and harsh to Y/N too. 

After 3 full years of pestering each other on and off they were not thinking off ceasing this year. 

“Hey, Raccoon, still didn’t learn how to do some proper make-up?” Was one of the first things Harry yelled at Y/N when she walked into school. Y/N’s reaction? holding up two middle-fingers in Harry’s direction with a fake big smile. 

Y/N and Y/F/N said their goodbyes when they split to go to their classrooms. First period would be English. Y/N sat down in the back corner of the room to not be seen. The start was good, the teacher, Mrs. Anderson, talked about her summer break and introduced herself. She even showed pictures of her two dogs. But then hell broke loose. Mrs. Anderson paired people together to interview each other about their summer break and write a whole essay about it. Y/N hated projects where you needed to work together. But she hated this project even more when she heard who her partner would be. 

“And then next, Y/N Y/L/N together with Harry Styles.” Harry looked to Y/N with a smirk on his face and all you could do was put a middle finger up. Gladly Mrs. Anderson didn’t see it. 

After class Harry walked up to Y/N. “Please, fuck off.” Y/N said and grabbed her bag to leave. 

“You need to talk to me, otherwise we will both fail this class.” He said and crossed his arms. 

“Fine, then I’ll fail this class, everything to not have to talk to you.” 

“For a fact, I know you can’t fail this class, or you can’t graduate.” A crooked smile could be seen on his face and his head was tilted a bit. “So, what do you say, mine place, or yours?” 

���Library after school sounds just fine.” With those words, Y/N walked off to her next period. 

//

After school Y/N walked to the library to work on the project with Harry. She had told the horrible news to Y/F/N but the only thing she could say was: “Maybe you two might actually talk for once, and maybe even slightly be friendly to each other.” Y/N thought she was crazy and that that never was going to happen. 

Once in the library Y/N found a spot and pulled out her laptop to be ready for the interview she had to take. But Harry was nowhere to be seen. The thought of mailing him came through Y/N’s head, but that would look desperate, and Y/N was everything but desperate. 

After a good twenty minutes Harry finally showed up, he was dressed in his football uniform, and his hair was one big mess. “Practice took longer than expected.” he said. He took place across from Y/N and laid back in his chair. 

“I don’t care what the hell you were up to.” Y/N snapped. “Just be in time.” 

“Jeez, why so grumpy?” Harry laughed. Y/N was already irritated and couldn’t wait for this god damn project to be over. “So, what do we need to do?” 

“Didn’t you listen to the explanation of Mrs. Anderson?” 

“No.” 

Y/N sighed and tried to explain calmly what the two of them needed to do. 

“So, we need to interview each other?” Harry asked, “and then need to write an essay about each other’s summer break?” Y/N nodded. 

“Exactly, it isn’t that hard.” 

“If it isn’t that hard, then why won’t you write both of our essays?” Harry proposed. “You wouldn’t have to see me, and I wouldn’t have to do anything.” 

“Do I look like your little slave? I’m not going to do that, idiot.” 

After a while the two actually started to ask each other questions about their break. Y/N tried to come up with good questions and tried to answer Harry’s questions as well as possible. But his answers were short and Y/N couldn’t work with those, and let’s not talk about the questions he asked. 

“Aren’t you going to write my answers down?” Y/N noticed that Harry didn’t write anything down on his notebook during the whole interview. 

“Nah, I’ll remember it.” He crossed his arms and smiled. “Or, I’ll just come up with something.” 

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh, and who are you to say that? You’re not my teacher.”

//

The whole afternoon was full of the two fighting like this. and Y/N was relieved when they called it quits. They weren’t done, far from. Y/N didn’t have enough to get a whole essay to write, and she was sure Harry didn’t either, with his dumb ass questions. 

“So, when are we going to work on this further?” Y/N asked when she packed her stuff. 

“I thought we were done?” 

“We are far from done, how do you think you are going to write a whole essay about my break with this little information.” Y/N rambled. 

“Just, like I said. I’ll come up with some stuff.” 

“You can do that,” Y/N said, “But I’m not going to, so we’re going to meet up again to work on this horrible project, if you like it or not.” 

Harry put his hands in his pockets and was thinking about it. “Fine,” he finally said. “But, at my place tomorrow after school.” 

“I don’t fucking know where you live, Styles.” 

“I’ll just text you the address.” Harry already walks away. 

How in the hell was he going to text her if he didn’t even have her phone number? Y/N decided that wouldn’t be her problem. 

When Y/N got home she decided to make a start on her essay. Even though she didn’t have much to write about she stretched the hell out of everything and finally got at least one page full. The fact that the main thing Harry did in his break was playing football made Y/N laugh. How can a person be so dedicated about a school sport? When he didn’t play football, he hung out with friends. At least that’s what he had told Y/N. 

Harry played so much football to get away from his house. His parents were fighting all the time and Harry didn’t like being in the middle of it all. At home he often was in his room listening to music on 100% volume to zone out of the real world. Harry liked music, he has a guitar and he also likes to sing, but he keeps that to himself. Sometimes he even wrote songs, but would never let anyone hear them. The lyrics would be hidden away in an old book in a drawer in his room.

Of course, he couldn’t tell Y/N this was what he was doing in the holidays. He had a reputation of being the hot football player who wasn’t afraid of anyone. And even though he knew he could get any girl, he still was insecure. He was scared people would see when he hadn’t slept all night because of his parents. The bags under his eyes would sometimes be so big, he put his mother’s concealer under it. Nobody would notice. 

Harry was glad that his parents finally decided to get a divorce, and his dad would move out. It was quiet in the house, finally. And Harry got to have a good night sleep again. His bond with his mum had grew since, and he was really glad for it. 

When he got home he went to the kitchen where his mum was preparing dinner.  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then sat on the counter. 

“How was school, darling?” 

“I’ve got to do a stupid project for English class with that stupid girl, Y/N.” Harry’s mum knew he didn’t like Y/N, but she disagreed about how he talked about her. 

“Harry,” she said warningly. “You probably don’t even know her that well, maybe she’s a really nice girl.” 

“Sure, that’s why she’s so cold and harsh to me.” 

“Maybe she has her reasons?” Harry walks off unagreeably. He loved his mum, but in this case a little less. He knew Y/N was stupid. She didn’t like him, so why would he be nice to her? He tried it long ago, and that didn’t go well. Why even try now?

//

After school Y/N was walking to Harry’s house. It was a fifteen-minute walk and rain poured down. She forgot to bring an umbrella and was now soaking wet. She already felt the embarrassment of sitting in Harry’s room, clothes dripping on his floor. Amazing. 

After fifteen minutes of walking, Y/N arrived at Harry’s place. It was a cozy house, not too small, not too big. Y/N didn’t expect Harry to live in a house like this. She had more the image in her head of a big house with big entrance and huge garden. 

She walked up to the door and rang the bell. Anxiously waiting for someone to open it. After a few seconds a woman opens the door and squeaks when she sees Y/N. “Oh, you must be Y/N! come inside it must be cold!” Y/N follows the woman into the house and there they stood in the hall. “I’m Anne, Harry’s mum.” the woman says. “You’re soaking wet, darling. Do you want something warm to change into?”

“Oh, no I don’t want to bother-”

“I’ll get Harry to get you something warm.” She yells upstairs for Harry to come downstairs and get Y/N some warm clothes. Harry’s face speaks for itself, he’s already done with this bullshit, but does what his mum tells him to. 

Anne told Y/N to just follow Harry and it would be alright. So, she did. Harry walks into a room, Y/N guessed was his. The walls were painted in a light color and it was clean. Y/N imagined his room full of football supplies, but she saw nothing what was related to football. While Y/N was looking around the room Harry was picking out some of his old clothes. He gave them to Y/N and told her she could get changed in the bathroom. 

Harry had given Y/N some sweatpants and his old football shirt. It was way too big on her, but it was better than the wet clothes she was wearing. Anne offered to put her wet clothes in the dryer so Y/N handed them over to her. 

When Y/N walked back into Harry’s room Harry looked up. He didn’t want to find Y/N cute in his old clothes, but he did. And he hated himself for that. It was just cute how the clothes were way too big on her. She awkwardly stood in the door opening and waited for Harry to say something. 

“You can sit on my bed.” Harry offers while he was already seated at his desk. Y/N plops down and grabs her laptop from her bag. Y/N was confused, as to why his mum was so kind and caring while Harry was far from that. 

The two, were to surprise, working great together. Harry finally asked some good, deep questions and Y/N was glad to give some good answers in return. After an hour the two were finished interviewing each other without any hassle. 

Harry dropped on his bed with a big sigh while Y/N was still seated at the end of it. “Glad that’s over with.” he says while staring at the ceiling. 

“Yes, indeed.” Y/N answers as she puts her laptop away. “I’ll get my own clothes again so I can leave.” 

“They’re probably not dry yet.” Harry says. “You can stay a little longer if you want, I can make you a cup of tea?” In this hour of not fighting with each other Harry began to see why he was interested in her four years ago. He saw her ticking away on her laptop with her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. It was funny how she made weird faces while typing out some of the answers. And he admired when she giggled sometimes. It wasn’t a lot, but for some reason it felt like home. He knew he couldn’t be harsh to her right now. 

“Why are you so nice to me all of a sudden?” Y/N asks suspicious. Harry was never nice to her, so something’s got to be up. 

“It was peaceful today, I liked it.” 

“I thought that was just to get over with this project.” 

“No, I-, do you want tea or not?” Y/N chuckled and nod her head.

She was still surprised Harry was acting so nice out of nowhere. She had do admit she really liked this side of him. But she was still scared he’d change at a glance. Maybe he only was this nice because there was nobody else and his reputation couldn’t be destroyed. 

Harry already was off to the kitchen so Y/N was alone with her thoughts. She really wanted to believe he could always be this kind, but she needed to see him like this at school. She was scared that if she would open up, just a little bit right now, he would use it against her, and pester her even more with it. 

After 5 minutes Harry comes back up with two cups of tea and hands one over to Y/N. “Thank you.” She says with a slight smile. It was silent while the two of them while slurping their tea. 

“Y/N I can’t do this.” Y/N looked up at Harry in confusion. She knew it, he couldn’t fake being nice to her. Of course, she was right. It was just an act. “I can’t act like I hate you, when I actually like you, you seem really nice.” 

“What?!” Y/N almost spits out her tea. “How?” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Then, why were you always so rude to me?” 

“Because you acted cold and harsh towards me!” he exclaims. 

“Ow.” 

Dead silence. 

“I’m just not so open towards people I don’t know, I don’t trust people that easy and i can be cold, i guess.” Y/N explains. “I always thought you just picked on me.” 

“No, in our first year of High School i really tried to talk to you in a nice way, but you always cut off the conversations.” 

“So, because I was cold to you, you became cold and mean to me?” 

“Yes, i guess so.” Harry takes another sip of his tea. “I guess the tea is hot today.” Y/N laughed and gave nudged his arm. “Can you trust me now?” 

“Well, no.” Y/N says. “How can I know you really mean this?” 

“I just don’t pester you the upcoming days on school? If you don’t either?” he extends his arm. “Promise?” Y/N nods and takes his hand. 

“Promise.”

//

The next week the two of them didn’t snap at each other and it was peaceful between the two of them. They also didn’t speak to each other, but sometimes they would send each other a small smile in the hallways. 

Y/F/N noticed the sudden change between Y/N and Harry. “What is going on, why aren’t you guys fighting all the time?” 

“We came to our senses, and agreed we should stop being mean to each other.” Y/F/N was shocked. She saw the two of you fighting each day for the last three years, how was that changed of a sudden?” 

“But, you literally hate each other.” 

“Well,” Y/N begins. “I thought he hated me, but it was me who was harsh to him in the beginning, so he became harsh to me too because of that.” 

“So you hated him for being mean, but it was your own fault?” 

“Exactly.” 

“And you’re sure he won’t start picking on you again?”

“I hope so.” Y/N gulped. “He promised it.” 

“Let’s hope” Y/F/N says cheery. “Because I’m liking this truce.” 

When Y/N was walking in the way of a bathroom she walked by Harry and his friends. 

“100% you’re going to pick on her again next week.” She hears one of his friends say laughing. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” Harry confirms and laughs with his friend. 

“What the fuck, Styles?!” you blurt out. Harry looked up in shock after hearing you. He wanted to say something but you ran into the bathroom. 

“Y/N,” he stood by the door to try and talk to you. He heard his friends behind him laughing but he didn’t care. Why did he care so much about this stupid reputation, it wasn’t meant for Y/N to hear that, he didn’t mean a thing he said, he just wanted his friends to like him? “Y/N, please.” he repeated after she didn’t respond after the first time. After the third time of not responding he walked into the girl’s bathroom not giving a fuck. 

“Go away.” Y/N yelled. Harry could tell she cried a bit and tried to cover it up. “You don’t care about me.” 

“I do, I really do Y/N.” 

“Didn’t seem like it back there.” 

“Y/N I have a reputation here.”

“Exactly, and getting a truce with me would ruin it, go ahead, let’s ruin each other’s lives again.” Harry wanted to come closer to Y/N but she pushed him away. “If that fucking reputation is so fucking important to you, mister fucking styles, then go ahead and save your reputation.” She punched Harry on his chest. For harry it didn’t hurt that much, but Y/N really needed to relieve her anger at him. Harry grabbed her wrists so she stopped hitting him. “Let me go!” she exclaims. Harry doesn’t let go and stares deeply into Y/N eyes. 

“Fuck my reputation.” Harry says. He leans forward and crashes his lips onto Y/N. At first Y/N was in shock by the sudden kiss but was soon joining him. Their lips were in sync. Harry grabbed Y/N’s cheek and stroked it with his thumb and Y/N’s hands were all over Harry’s curls. The anger she had really was outed in the kiss and it made it even more passionate. The two couldn’t get enough of each other, and they both realized that this was the thing they both wanted, but tried to put that feeling away for so many years. 

“Harry.” Y/N begins as the kiss came to an end. “Are you sure you want to get rid of that reputation, for me?” 

“one hundred percent.” He grabs her hand and squeezes it. “please, trust me.” 

“I want to, but how do i know you won’t keep talking about me like that.” referring to the scene with his friends from a moment ago. 

“You still have my football shirt from the afternoon we did the interview?” Y/N nodded, Harry said she could keep it because it didn’t fit him anymore. That was a lie, he wanted her to have it, it looked adorable on her. “Please, wear that to school tomorrow, and I’ll gladly show you off to everyone in this school.” 

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles #harry #styles #y/n #reader #iadoreyouharry #fine line #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #one direction #liam payne #niall horan #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

[eyeofthedrgn]

I have finally decided on a title for this multi chapter Rowcan fic: A Heavy Battle Symphony. Inspired by two Linkin Park songs (Heavy{feat. Kiiara}, Battle Symphony) that seem to fit the bill of the overall tone of the story. Since it deals with such dark topics and mental health, it just works. I wasn't intending for this to be song inspired, but here we are.

Also, I'm bad at summaries, but here we go:

Set in a modern high school AU. Lorcan was forced to live with his Aunt Maeve and boyfriend James Perrington, both of which are abusive. Once they move to Orynth, Lorcan's life is thrown into disarray when he meets Rowan.

Trigger warnings : language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: just over 2k

Chapter 1 - Numb

Lorcan Salvaterre has had a pretty shitty life for only being 17. He's been to so many different schools, he doesn't remember them all. His mother died long ago, he didn't have a father, and he was then forced to live with his despicable Aunt Maeve when he was five. Lorcan didn't remember his mother anymore, all he knew was the cruelty of his aunt and her boyfriend, James Perrington.

Maeve's job required them to move every few months. Which meant his schooling was rather poor and often overlapped from school to school. He was always the loner and easily overlooked, at least until his growth spurt last year that catapulted him to be six and half feet tall.

He'd never had a friend in his life. No one would ever want to be friends with him in the first place. He always had a scowl on his face, wore black, long black hair, head down, his skin was a beautiful deep olive, his eyes dark as onyx. He was rather strange. And since his growth spurt, his hulking frame kept everyone away.

He never smiled, he rarely talked. To anyone. Not that he had much to say. He had no hobbies, no pleasures. All he was allowed to do in this meaningless life were chores, his homework, and lay in his room staring at the ceiling.

The way Lorcan had grown up was brutal. There were beatings for not finishing chores, misbehaving, or most of the time, just existing. He never got three meals a day, on the very rare occasion, he would get a small dinner, but generally, the only meal was usually lunch at school or when they were traveling. Even then, Maeve would order the smallest meal for the boy, gods forbid she had to spend more money on him than necessary or look bad in front of people.

That also meant that if he needed new clothes or something for school, he had to work extra for it. A lot of the time, he felt like a severely more abused Cinderella. His aunt made him do some of the most tedious chores in payment for his necessities.

The chores he could handle, sometimes they were even relaxing. The beatings on the other hand were less than desirable. Especially when most of the abuse wasn't even a result of Lorcan's supposed incompetency. But every beating was recorded in Lorcan's journal and accompanied by self harm.

Lorcan's mental health was far from healthy. He wished he had the courage to slice his wrists deeper, but if he failed to finish the job, he couldn't imagine how Maeve would react and what she would make Perrington do to him. So, he settled for the scars. 

His wrists and forearms were covered in scars. Every shirt he had was long sleeved to cover his coping habit. He didn't want questions or people staring, he hated being pitied. Honestly, he hated pretty much everything.

---

The new apartment Maeve had rented in Orynth was just like the rest of them. Lorcan's room was the smallest and also used for storage. Not that it mattered to Lorcan he only had a few things anyway, but it did mean that either his aunt or her boyfriend would barge in, whenever they wished, to grab something. Since Lorcan realized they were never going to stop and they always removed the lock from his door, he took to changing in the bathroom.

Lorcan was exhausted. He had spent all day moving every single box Maeve and Perrington had into the new apartment, making sure he put the boxes in the correct rooms. And setting up his room to give himself some semblance of privacy with the way he piled the storage boxes. 

A sleeping bag, a duffel bag full of worn and faded clothes in various shades of black, a few well worn books, a journal that he used to record every beating and every cut, and a fraying backpack full of school supplies were all of Lorcan's belongings. He didn't even have a real bed. Or a pillow.

Almost asleep in his sleeping bag, Maeve barges into his room and starts yelling at him.

"Lorcan! Where in the gods' forsaken apartment are my hair products!"

Lorcan had no idea why she needed them at midnight. "They're in your bathroom." Obviously.

"If they were, I wouldn't be here, you useless piece of shit!" She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up, then shoved him into the hall. He knew better than to fight as he stumbled down the hall, he did his best to keep his face neutral, but fuck, that hurt.

Resisting the urge to rub his poor scalp, he stalked to Maeve's bathroom and opened the box labeled MAEVE'S HAIR PRODUCTS. Lorcan sighed when he was greeted with her towels.

"I already looked there, you little welp," she snarled. "Now find my shit!" She stormed out and slammed the door.

Lorcan hung his head and looked around the room. He just wanted to sleep. It wasn't his fucking fault she mislabeled her fucking boxes. Again. Finding the box labeled MAEVE'S TOWELS, he opened it and sighed with relief as he set eyes on her missing items, and set the box on the counter. He informed Maeve of his discovery before heading back to bed.

---

Five hours later, Lorcan woke up, like clockwork. He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. Hel, he was tired. Time to start an exhausting day of learning a new school and schedule.

Every morning was the same, up at five, shower, get ready for school, make breakfast that he wasn't allowed to eat. Only the adults were allowed breakfast. He'd get a knee to the gut if he attempted to snatch a strip of bacon or a link of sausage, or even a piece of toast. So, his stomach would growl until he got to eat a pathetic school lunch.

This morning would be slightly different from the rest, though. Maeve would have to take him to school and make sure he was registered. She always acted the caring aunt in public. It disgusted Lorcan. Especially when she would go the extra mile and kiss his cheek.

After Maeve left without a word to Lorcan, he stood in the main hall with his schedule and map in hand. This school was huge. Much bigger than most of the other high schools he had been to. That was to be expected, though. This was Orynth High after all, the biggest high school in the biggest city of Terrasen.

He looked over his schedule. He had no idea how he made it to senior year with all the holes in his education.

Fuck, why was pre-calc first? At least he was good at math.

He looked at the clock at the end of the hall, he still had half an hour before school actually started. Rather than wasting time, he found all of his classrooms in order, twice, and then went to the library to grab the necessary textbooks. 

By the time he left the library, the halls were filling up. Kids all around him were chattering, he was either ignored or kids looked at him with scared eyes and scurried out of his way.

He tugged his hood up and shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and made his way to first period.

---

Since it was the start of a new semester, most teachers ignored that Lorcan was new to the school. That was fine, he didn't want the attention anyway. But in his last class of the day, creative writing, they had to split into groups for an assignment. Lorcan hated group assignments. He was partnered with the smallest teenager he had ever seen.

"I'm Elide. You're new here aren't you?"

His nod was barely perceptible.

"It's Lorcan, right?" He nodded again. "Where are you from?" Her eyes were filled with pure curiosity. 

He cleared his throat. "Originally from Doranelle, but I don't remember it. My mother died when I was five. My aunt took me in and we move a lot." He blinked and shook his head in confusion at himself for telling a complete stranger something he hadn't told anyone else before.

How did this petite young woman bewitch him to talk more than he had in weeks? Lorcan felt exposed under her gaze. It felt like she could read him like a book. It was unnerving. 

"That sounds rough. I hope you like it here and I hope we can be friends." She finished with a smile.

Lorcan just turned back to the assignment.

The class passed without much other conversation besides about the assignment they had to do together.

Finally, the bell rang signalling the end of the day.

The first day at this school was done and he was exhausted and hungry. Lorcan was so focused on packing up his supplies into his ratty backpack that he didn't realize Elide was talking to him.

"A group of us are going to the park to hang out, wanna join?" He was zipping up his backpack, not hearing a word she said. "Lorcan?"

"Huh?" He looked up, confused. She giggled. His cheeks heated just slightly.

"Do you want to hang out with my friends and I after school?"

Why would he want to do that? Lorcan did remember saying she hoped they could be friends, but he thought she was just being polite. Now, she was trying to follow through.

But there was only one answer.

"No."

---

Elide adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she walked to the park to meet her friends. She could see Lorcan walking on the other side of the street away from her. His hood was up, head down, hands in his hoodie pocket, his posture slightly hunched. She thought he could almost pass for a shadow if his black clothes weren't so faded and worn.

She remembered looking into his eyes during class and seeing deep pools of onyx, they would have been gorgeous, but instead, they were dull, and lifeless. He had been so hard to read. Elide had guessed that he didn't have a good home life and they were poor, by the state of his clothes and backpack. She had seen the scars on his wrist when he reached into his bag for an eraser. It broke her heart. Watching him walk away, she noticed how awkwardly his clothes hung off of him. He was definitely too skinny for his frame.

So lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear one of her friends come up behind and loop his arms through hers. Elide yelped and then realized it was her friend, Rowan Whitethorn. He had silver hair and pine green eyes that were always bright.

"I didn't mean to scare you! I called your name, but you were off in your own little world!"

"Sorry. I was thinking about the new kid that you will probably end up having a crush on." Rowan scoffed, Elide just laughed. 

They walked a bit in silence until Rowan made his confession.

"He is hot! He's in my gym class. Tell me everything, my precious Elide! I want to know!" Rowan was so excitable, it was infectious.

"He's in my creative writing class and we were partnered together. He said he's from Doranelle, his mother died when he was five, and his aunt took him in. And apparently, they move a lot." She also told him about the assumptions she made from her observations.

Rowan soaked up every word.

---

Lorcan was doing homework at the kitchen table when Maeve and Perrington came in with take out. It smelled good, Lorcan's stomach rumbled. Damn it. To his surprise, Maeve set down a small Chinese take out box right in the middle of this textbook. He blinked at it, and then up at his aunt, she looked kind for once. "Thank you." It was barely a whisper, but he knew she heard it because she nodded before walking away.

Sometimes he actually thought she loved him..

After his studies and meager dinner, Lorcan laid in his sleeping bag, using an old hoodie that didn't fit anymore as a pillow, trying to sleep. A sigh left his lips and he rolled over.

He couldn't sleep even though he was exhausted, so he pulled a well worn novel from his duffle bag. It was The Hobbit. Lorcan had read it many times. The spine was broken, pages were dog eared, some of the pages weren't even glued in anymore. But he enjoyed the adventure.

Lorcan was halfway through his book, when his window started lightening with the new day. He groaned and his stomach growled.

++++

Rowan couldn't get that new dark haired boy out of his mind. Lorcan Salvaterre. He had soaked up all the information he could from Elide about his new crush. Concentrating on his homework was so hard.

"Ugh." Rowan ran his hand through his hair and smacked his cheeks a couple of times to get himself to snap out of it. He still had homework to finish.

"Rowan, love, would you like some hot chocolate?" His mom leaned into his room. "You seem distracted today."

His mom, Barb, was the sweetest lady and the best mother one could ask for. They talked about everything. And he swore she had eyes everywhere because she always knew everything. Sometimes, Rowan hated that his mom was so observant.

"Yes, please." He got up from his desk and followed his mom to the kitchen. He enjoyed his cocoa with marshmallows. After taking a few sips, he told his mom about the new kid in school. She just smiled knowingly at him.

"Elide says he moves a lot. But I don't know exactly what 'a lot' means. Also, he's probably not into guys." He quirked his lips to the side. 

"You should probably start with actually talking to the boy."

Rowan whined, "Mom!" She just laughed and kissed the top of his head before retreating to the living room, leaving him with his thoughts and empty cup.

_____

Thanks for reading! I'll probably post the next chapter next Thursday or Friday.

#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #fanfic #rowcan fanfic

[cherrypieships]

the amusement park: chapter one

A/N: Hi all! This is my first fic posted here on my self ship blog! I’m really proud of this story, it’s gonna be a two-parter.

Ship: davey jacobs x pepper simmons (s/i), featuring my best friend V and my gf Khourey and their respective f/os, race higgins and jack kelly!

Summary: Some of the newsies head to Canobie lake's haunted house/amusement park. Pepper and Davey are the only non-couple.

The backseat of Race’s mom’s minivan was one of the last places Pepper wanted to be at 7 o’clock on a Friday morning. Yet here she was, awaiting their arrival to Canobie Lake Park’s annual Screemfest as she got crammed in next to Davey Jacobs.

Not that she disliked Davey. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Pepper liked Davey a whole lot. And that was exactly the problem. Here she was, in such close proximity to him that their knees knocked together every time Violet hit a pothole, harbouring a gigantic crush on her best friend. And everyone in the car knew beside him. And they were totally fifth- and sixth-wheeling on this trip.

It was fine.

Besides, Pepper was willing to endure a few hours pining quietly if it meant she could go on some sick roller coasters. So she sucked it up and tucked quietly into her seat.

Mickey turned around from the middle row and handed Pepper a piece of her chocolate croissant. “You cold back there?” She asked, wild red curls framing her face as she spoke.

After popping the pastry into her mouth, Pepper shrugged. “I’m fucking always cold.”

Jack tugged his hat up from where it rested over his eyes. “That is a fair point, she is always cold.” He said pointedly, and yelped when Pepper flicked the back of his head.

“I have poor circulation, dickhead.” She whined.

Race snickered from the passenger seat. “Good thing my dickhead doesn’t have poor circulation.” He quipped.

Though Pepper couldn’t see it, she could feel Violet rolling their eyes at their boyfriend. “I’m gonna file for divorce, Race.” They picked up their coffee and took a brief sip. “And I’m taking the kids.”

Beside her, Davey was digging around in the duffel bag he’d brought for the ride. He’d described it to Pepper as a ‘Minor Catastrophe Bag’, with a tiny first aid kit, nail clippers, some snacks, ibuprofen, pads, and a pair of tweezers. As much as she would have loved to gently bully him for being such a mother hen, she knew she’d be thanking him later through an inevitable headache. He straightened, finally, and emerged with a sweater. “Um, if you’re really cold,” He held it out to her. “You can wear this. It’s my backup but I’m pretty warm.” He said.

Pepper took the sweater in both hands with a gentle smile, trying to ignore the soft brush of his fingertips against hers. “You sure?” As much as she would love to immediately engulf herself in his clothes, it was Mid-October and she didn’t want to steal Davey’s source of warmth from him.

Like usual, he waved off her gentle concern. “I have my jacket and I’m wearing layers.” He explained, pushing the sweater towards her.

She took it in her hands, hoping and praying that the heat in her face wasn’t visible. “If you insist.” The teasing was playful, as it always had been. Their friendship had existed for years, the product of a few friend groups merging and discovering that they fit like puzzle pieces. Davey always gave up his cherry Starbursts to Pepper because they were her favorite. Pepper let Davey borrow her favorite poetry books. They spent summers at the pool together. Had napped, cried, laughed, celebrated together for what seemed like forever.

So why did wearing his clothes make her so much more flustered than anything before?

She slid the sweater on, enveloping herself in his scent- oh Christ she was dying- and did actually feel much better. Even though the dark blue didn’t exactly match her outfit.

Davey smiled at her. “When will you learn to dress for the weather?” He admonished gently.

“That’s why I keep you around.” Pepper said, rather than admitting that she was just forgetful and liked her outfit too much.

“Davey’s new occupation: Pepper’s coat rack.” Violet chimed in, handing their phone to Race to switch the song that was playing.

Davey sighed. “I’m really putting that college education to good use.”

The rest of the car ride went by relatively quickly, much to Pepper’s delight. They hopped out into the cool autumn air, cracked their cramped joints, and headed into the park. Davey thankfully left most of his supplies in the trunk of the minivan (save for the ibuprofen he’d managed to sneak into Pepper’s purse just in case), so they’d made it through security and into the place without much fuss as well.

Jack, ever the natural born leader of the bunch, snagged a map and immediately started planning their route for the day. He unfurled it in front of the group and, as Mickey curled into his side, eyed the pathways and rollercoasters thoughtfully. “So do you guys wanna start at the front and work our way back? Or the other way around?”

There was a beat of silence as everyone worked the thought over. “We should just head towards the back, I think everyone’s gotta start testing the rides first anyway.” Mickey piped up first.

Davey nodded. “Gives us more time.” He added.

They made the trek towards the back of the park, Mickey and Jack leading with the map.

Race sidled up beside Pepper and hip-checked her. “You been to these haunted houses before?” He asked, making reference to the night-time festivities. Once the sun set, the park released creepily-costumed actors to scare those who stayed, and previously blocked-off areas were transformed into small haunted houses. Truthfully, Pepper had never been to any haunted house, let alone ones set up at an amusement park.

So, she shook her head. “It’s my first haunted house, actually.” Something she’d confided in Mickey and Vi about.

Race feigned a gasp. “Well ain’t this a hell of a place to start!” He elbowed her, and she returned the gesture, their own weird little handshake.

“Are you serious?” Davey asked, his own elbow catching her shoulder, fucking ow, he’s bony.

Pepper nodded. “I was too scared when I was a kid, and then when I stopped being a baby, all that stuff with my mom happened, so I just never went.”

Davey hummed in acknowledgement, evidently eager to skip past the whole ‘my-mom-is-ill’ conversation. “Ah, well. If you need a buddy, I’m sure we’ll be left alone. Together.” He said, his head tilting to their friends, who had once again broken off into couples, leaving them to their own devices.

Shoving the impending smile down, she nodded. “I’m sure we will.”

“Well, we have a good, um,” He checked the watch on his wrist (the one with the brown leather strap that he wore with every outfit, even if Pepper told him it didn’t match, or that it was too clunky.) “Like, ten hours before we need to even think about that.”

She crumpled into a fit of giggles. “Perfect. I’m sure we’ll spend that time wisely.” She swatted his arm as he shoved his watch in front of her face.

---

They did not.

Six and a half hours later, the group stood in line at one of the concession stands, staring at the menu and nodding to the song playing in the background; some mid-2010s Kesha track that was making Vi go absolutely crazy.

Jack squinted at the chalkboard. “They don’t even have chicken tenders here?” He nudged Race. “They don’t even have chicken tenders here.”

Race nodded slowly, also squinting. Pepper wondered, briefly, if the pair needed glasses or if they were just trying to look contemplative. “Mickey’s gonna call it homophobic, you know.” He said.

“It is!” Mickey called dutifully from the table they had snagged for the gang to inevitably sit at. “I’ll take some cheese fries though!” To which Jack nodded and stepped up to the worker behind the plexiglass, beginning to list off the group’s orders.

Vi’s voice floated through Pepper’s ears. “Oh what a shame that you came here with someone,” they approached her, eyes closed and hands up by their shoulders as they got all the way into their performance. “My god, if they have candy apples at a stall somewhere, I’m gonna go buckwild.” They said suddenly, snapping out of their trance to stare at Pepper expectantly.

Before she could say anything, though, Davey stole the words from her mouth. “You are allergic to apples, V.” He chided, maybe more kindly than Pepper would have put it, but she was willing to overlook it for the sake of the way a small smile pulled at his mouth.

Violet dropped their hands. “Only a little bit.” They argued.

“A little bit allergic.” Davey repeated, and Pepper pressed her lips together firmly to fight off the grin at the exasperation in his voice.

“To apples, yes.” They nodded, and, evidently done with arguing, turned to keep Mickey company at the table.

Davey turned to Pepper, disbelief crossing his features. “Can you believe-”

“Yes.” She cut him off. “Yes I absolutely can believe it.” Pepper said, digging through her memory of the times V had pulled some similar shit; eating eleven mozzarella sticks despite their lactose intolerance, buying a Panic! At The Disco vinyl despite wanting Brendon Urie dead, and spending $40 on a Funko Pop figure of Spiderman Noir for no real reason other than some guy at a convention told them to.

Jack turned to his friends. “Okay I did the ordering, someone else has to do the collecting.” He announced, shoving the receipt with the order number on it towards Davey, who had inadvertently become Second In Command. Then, with a signature Jack Kelly Smug Smile, he stalked off to where V and Mickey were seated, Race following behind.

Great, Pepper thought, another conveniently timed moment alone with Davey. Briefly, she wondered if her friends had planned this ahead of time, and then she came to her senses and realized that yes, of course they had. Those conniving little weasels had been conspiring to get Davey to like her since senior prom.

She still remembered the way Mickey had shoved Davey at her when a slow song came on that night. Work Song by Hozier had drifted over the speakers, and V’s elbow caught her in the ribs as they growled a furious “Dance with him or I’ll fucking kill you.” and skipped off to sway with Racer. Pepper had stood on the dance floor, gaping as she watched Jack wink at Vi. Those two never got along about anything.

Davey’s hand had entered her field of vision, skin almost glowing under the light of the mirrorball. He’d smiled sheepishly, admitted that this was one of his favorite songs, and asked if she’d like to share a dance.

The strange thing was, she didn’t actually like Davey before that. At least she thought she didn’t. It wasn’t until she was cradled close to his chest, breathing in the smell of his soap and some soft, powdery cologne he frequented, that she found her heart pounding and her palms going clammy. And when he’d started humming against her hair, one hand in hers and the other around her waist, she knew she was absolutely fucked.

She’d started thinking about it and, yeah, it made sense to want to be with Davey. Handsome Davey, who sometimes made her laugh until soda came out her nose, and whose affinity for children’s cartoons made him the ideal conversation partner. Three years later, she was still in love with him.

And it was all her stupid, evil friends’ faults.

Back in the present, Davey tucked his hands in his pockets, his lips twisting as he lost himself in thought. “We’re gonna have so much shit to carry.” He murmured, exasperated at being the ones left behind.

“We sure are. At least you and Jack ordered drinks, so that’s more stuff to spill.” She twisted a long strand of hair around her finger.

Davey scoffed good-naturedly. “Yeah well you made me leave my water bottle in the car so I needed to be hydrated somehow.”

Pepper kicked at his shin with the toe of her sneaker. “And a caramel hot chocolate is the best way to stay hydrated?” She grinned up at him, watching him tuck the receipt into his back pocket and start moving for the pick-up window as the drink in question was called out.

He hummed in assent. “You bet it is.” He picked up the paper cup, taking a short sip and licking at his bottom lip. Pepper ignored the urge to run her thumb across it.

She must have been staring, because after a second, Davey held the cup out towards her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. She loved chocolate and caramel, and always ran cold. He knew there was no way she’d have turned down a sip if he’d offered, so he must have decided to save his breath. She took the cup in her hands, the warmth emanating from it seeping pleasingly into her palms, and took a sip as well, subconsciously hoping to taste more than the drink. She licked her lips.

Davey watched her intently. He opened his mouth, ready to say something to her, when the order bell rang out. “Order sixty-nine!” The college girl behind the counter announced.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Race cackled from the table. V leaned into him, trying to hide their own laughter as Mickey gave him a high-five.

Pepper sighed, she should’ve known that would be their luck. The pair of them moved forward, Davey pushing in front of her to grab the tray before she could even reach for it. “I got it.” He mumbled, holding onto the plastic tray like a nervous Disney-Channel-Original-Movie teenager. “Grab the drinks, don’t worry about it.” And then he smiled up at her, a closed-lipped little smile that made her heart race as she picked up Jack’s orange soda.

Behind her, someone clicked their tongue. Pepper turned, making immediate eye contact with an older lady with greying black hair and soft folds in her skin, who gave her a knowing smile. “And they say chivalry is dead. You got yourself a sweet one, honey.” She said, then winked.

Pepper’s jaw went slack trying to think of a response. She turned back to Davey, whose eyebrows were so far up his face that they were basically in his hairline. “Oh God,” he said simply, “Um, thank you, ma’am.”

The woman laughed softly, leaned over and patted Pepper’s shoulder as if she knew something Pepper didn’t, and then disappeared into the line to order food.

There was a long, silent moment, where Pepper was racking her brain, searching every corner for something to say that would shift the air, move the mood from awkward to playful with a joke of some sort. She looked at him again, and he was staring at her, unblinking. There was a funny look on his face- regret maybe- his eyebrows low and his eyes a little soft. She wondered, distantly, if he was realizing that she was in love with him; if it was a look of pity-

“Hurry up with my goddamn cheese fries!” Mickey yelled, their hunger obviously taking control over their inhibition.

Without a second thought, Pepper turned on her heel and walked to where their friends were, leaving Davey and the unnerving encounter behind.

#pls drop a like/rb if you read! i'm really proud of this one! #davey #olive talks #my fic #the amusement park

[writingsfromhome]

Josslyn

Request: Harry imagine based off the song Josslyn by Olivia O'Brien?

A/N: This was in my inbox for a while, but I finally finished it! It got a little long but I really wanted to set up a backstory. Hope it’s what you wanted! :)

Part 2

————————————————————-

My leg bounces under the table, eyeing everyone walking through the door until my best friend Regan walks in. The first day back to school always felt like hell on earth. It would be more unbearable if my best friend didn’t have the same homeroom as me.

“I want to die,” she drops into the seat in front of mine and turns around. “Like literally. I can’t wait to be done with this dump.”

“We just do it all over again in uni,” My stomach turns remembering what our final year meant. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life and I had to choose this year. It was a scary thought.

“At least there’ll be more freedom, I won’t be living with my crazy family, and,” she pauses ticking each item on her fingers, and wiggles her eyebrows. “All the hot guys.”

“Is somebody talking about me?”

We turn and Harry Styles, class jock, stands above us with a pencil behind his ear and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“If we were, you would’ve heard ‘major douchebag loser’,” Regan rolls her eyes. I give Regan a look like what an idiot and she ignores him to continue on about her dream school. As hard as I concentrate though, I’m too aware of Harry walking around and settling into the seat behind me.

It had happened, over the summer-we had hooked up. I can’t say it was a shining time for me, I also didn’t reqret it quite as much as one might think.

It was at a party I was invited to while Regan was visiting her grandparents in New Jersey and I was getting lonely. He’d cornered me, made me feel less alone. The hookup lasted a week, before we were off, and then another two weeks in August. I quit him-like a habit-the week before school started.

I confessed to Regan, she’d warned me to avoid him during the year if I wanted to have a decent final year. So I didn’t know if him showing up in the first hour of senior year was a good sign or an omen.

“You girls have a good summer?” Harry asks behind me. Regan locks eyes with me-she would handle it.

“You’re sort of interrupting our conversation here. Maybe you should find a new seat if you wanted to make friends.”

A small laugh escapes me, I couldn’t help it.

“Y/N,” Harry calls me out. “Have you forgotten how to talk or you’re getting shy on me?”

I turn around, he was way too smug. “Regan’s said it perfectly, why do you need me to talk.”

“Just making sure you could,” his eyes flash with humour before he says casually: “I wasn’t sure if you’d worked your mouth too hard this summer that it stopped working or something.”

My jaw drops and I hear Regan gasp.

“Yeah, like that.” Harry points to my open mouth and it takes everything in me not to slap him. But then he does a strange thing, his mocking smile softens into a genuine one. His eyes crinkling like we were on the ins of a joke and the angry flame softens at the curve of his smile.

There was this one weekend where his parents had left town and we’d spent the whole time just binging bad movies, under covers, learning every inch of each other. I never thought it would be a calming feeling waking up and seeing Harry’s sleeping face on the pillow next to me but I had stared at it for what felt like an hour until I’d poked him awake and he’s just pulled me in to sleep longer.

“You’re disgusting,” I tell him now, but it doesn’t have the same rage it would have last year. He’d worn me down, and I know he only liked to wind me up because he thought it was hot. He’d said as much over the summer.

I turn just as our teacher walks in and class begins. Harry gets in trouble for talking to his friends, I ignore the note he throws my way, we’re told it’s the most important year in our life thus far and I almost fall asleep halfway. Just a typical day of high school.

***

It was near the end of the first week, already I had an essay and a project due in two weeks and a thousand pages of math. I was just happy it was Friday and Regan and I were going to do our regular end-of-the-week detox: Starbucks and driving around town.

“Don’t hate me,” Regan says as I approach her car. “But Adam just invited me with his friends to the mall and I know we were supposed to hang out but this is maybe the first time he actually looked me in the eye and talked to me so-“

“It’s okay,” I interrupt her even though I was bummed. “You’ve been trying to get him to notice you all year so...finally! we’ll hang out over the weekend.”

Regan hugs me. “Really? You’re okay? You could come with us. Or I can drop you home first...”

“I can take the bus,” I insist. “We rode the bus last year remember?”

“Ugh, too soon,” Regan shakes her head. “I’ll make it up to you I promise. He’s calling now I’ll see ya!”

I wave her off and begin the slow walk to the bus stop, thinking of things I could do tonight by myself. Someone whistles to my right and I look up. Harry waves his hand, standing by his car. My face flushes as I remember the things that went on in that back seat.

“Where’s a pretty girl like you going all alone?” Harry shouts. I sigh and walk up to him.

“Do you ever realise how predatory you sound?”

“I’m king of the jungle,” he gestures to the school. “Why wouldn’t I sound predatory.”

I cover my face, “Omg please shut up Harry do you even hear yourself? You’re such a-an-ugh!”

“Hey,” his hand peels mine off of my eyes and he holds it in his grip as he walks backwards until his back hits his car, pulling me along. “What’s the matter with you? Didn’t we have fun this summer-why do you act like you hate me?”

His honesty shuts me up. “I-I don’t. I never said I hated you.”

“You sure act like it,” he crosses his arms. “You ignore me in homeroom, roll your eyes every time I say something...”

“We had a fling Harry, we’re not dating each other.” I shrug, trying to tug my hand away from Harry but he holds tight. “There’s nothing more to it. And to be honest...you’ve always been kind of annoying.”

“You’re kind of annoying,” Harry smiles again, tugging my sleeve to bring me closer. I don’t even resist moving into his orbit and settling between his outstretched legs as his arms wrap around my waist.

The truth was being with Harry was nice. He was a cocky jerk who knew he was desirable but when I was with him all the noise in my head died down for a bit and I existed in the present. That’s how he lived: for the now. And even though we were only more than friends and less than together forever, we had something between us. I just had to make sure my heart didn’t get caught up in between it. I’d had too many guys break my heart like I’d told Harry about one day when he’d driven us to a beach and we’d spent most of the day laying in the sun. Something about being there made me open up. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt me like the boys before. So we’d kept things light.

“You have any plans tonight?” Harry asks, his eyes shamelessly on my lips. I feel the familiar flutter in my stomach. Even though Harry would get with any body with boobs, it still felt nice to be looked at like this. By him.

“Not anymore,” I say. “Regan cancelled last minute so-“

“You’re free?” Harry sounds happy. I nod and he lets me go to move to the passenger door. “Get in, where do you want to go?”

“I...” I move to the car and sit inside, I told myself-and Regan-this wouldn’t happen and yet. It was. But Regan did ditch me for Adam so, maybe this was just the alternative. “Regan and I usually just grab drinks and drive around with music on.”

“Can I drive you somewhere?” Harry asks. I smile, of course.

***

Harry ends up taking me to a drive-in theatre. I’d never been to one and the excitement is all over my face. “It’s exactly like the old photos!” I squeal as he leans over and pushes my seat back. He does the same to his. “Have you been here before?”

“My family used to come here when we younger,” Harry smiles. I grin back at him and soon we’re locked in a staring contest because neither of us can look away. I open my mouth to say something but Harry moves forward, cupping my face to pull me to him. All common sense flies out the window as I get lost in his kiss. I tug at his hair the way he likes it and he presses me against the door as he kisses me harder, the handle jabbing my back but I didn’t even care. I’d missed Harry even though it had only been a week. His hands roam lower and lower until they stop as someone knocks on his window.

“Hello!” A muffled voice shouts from his window. We force each other apart. Harry looks at me with a drunken look on his face-eyes half lidded, a lopsided smile...and I’m sure I looked the same. We check who was at his door and it’s the girl bringing us our snacks.

“Harry?” She says as we roll down the window.

“Uh-oh-oh hey, Josslyn right? Long time!”

Harry grabs the drinks from...Josslyn, who looked familiar, and passes them to me to put in the dashboard holder we’d received when we entered. I keep an eye on the interaction as Josslyn goes from professional to flirty in under a second.

“Uh yeah because you never responded to any of my messages over the summer! How have you been? You look so good!”

“Yeah I’m good, I didn’t know you worked here?”

“My parents own the thing,” she glances back. “I have to work here when it gets busy.”

“No way,” Harry’s now fully interested in their conversation with his back to me and I feel a little left out. “I used to come here all the time as a kid did your parents own it back then?”

“Yeah! They took over from my grandparents. We definitely saw each other as kids cuz I was here all the time. Like every summer. I know every single lyric to every single summer hit from 1999 to present.”

“That’s impressive,” Harry laughs. I pick at the m&ms off the popcorn, feeling slightly jealous even though it didn’t make sense to be. Harry and I weren’t exclusive or anything, he wasn’t mine and I wasn’t his.

“Well I gotta go get the next order but we should catch up some time,” Josslyn puts her hand on Harry’s arm. “My number’s the same: if you’ve been ignoring my texts like I think you were then you should have it in your phone. Maybe we can recreate old times.”

With a wink, she’s gone and Harry clears his throat as he goes through his phone. His chuckle when he finds her texts irritates me.

“So like, do you have a lot of girls texting you that you just ignore?”

“What?” Harry looks up like he’d forgotten I was even there. “No, we just have some history. The texts were...funny.”

If I was a crazy girlfriend I would’ve demanded to see those texts but I was neither crazy or his girlfriend so I just look forward, kicking off my shoes and folding my legs into myself. I didn’t want to feel this way but I couldn’t help it.

“You’re not jealous are you?” Harry sneaks closer to me, clearly intrigued that I could be. But I don’t give him the satisfaction.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Right?” He puts his hand on my knee and it tingles. “She doesn’t mean anything anyway. Just someone from the past.”

“Like me someday,” I don’t know what makes me say it. Maybe I was just moody.

He furrows his brow, leaning back in his seat. “Y/N,” I look over at him but he looks like he’s struggling for words. I raise my eyebrow and he holds out his arm. “Come here.”

“Where?” I ask, looking him over. He sighs and in a single move he’s put one arm under my knees and the other around my back as he tries to lift me while seated.

“Harry stop!” I can’t help but laugh as the stick hits my bum, my knees spill the overflow of popcorn, and we knock heads. “What are you doing!”

Harry laughs and motions to me, “Just c’mere!”

I oblige, twisting my body to straddle him in the front seat. I make sure not to lean back-I’d done that in the past and blared the horn. I’d learned since then.

“What?” I ask, pretending to still be upset but the ridiculous move minutes earlier had already washed it away. He moves my hair behind my ear and holds my face above his.

“You’re lovely,” he says and I melt. He knows it.

“I wasn’t jealous,” I mumble as he peppers my neck with kisses, “I just...” the words already slip away from me.

“Mhm,” he hums.

***

“Thanks,” I say to Harry. We’re parked outside my house and we hesitate to leave each other. The movie was fun, Harry was distracting throughout but that just added to the fun.

“Your parents home?” Harry asks innocently.

“Yes,” I roll my eyes. I check the time, it was nearly 11pm. I’d told them I would be home by 10 but I knew they would be asleep so I had pushed my luck. “Where else would they be?”

Harry shrugs, “My parents are out of town again.”

He scratches at a scab on his hand, hiding his face. After spending time with Harry, I knew his parents weren’t around much what with high profile jobs and travelling all over. His house was huge but empty and it made Harry make a little more sense to me then. Right now though, he just wanted to get me in bed.

“I’d invite you in but if you were caught, my funeral would be Sunday.”

“I’d come in a disguise,” Harry reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through it. “And jump into the grave after you, I’d be as dramatic as possible.”

“Harry you’re mistaken,” I say. “Your funeral would be the exact same day.”

Harry laughs and kisses my hand, “Then we’d just find each other in the afterlife yeah?”

I lean towards him and kiss him tenderly, I try to stop myself but it feels like I’m falling and I remember Regan’s words as I cave and sneak him into my room, hushing him as he bumps into every possible piece of furniture. But I forget it all the second we get under covers only to find him gone the next morning with a text promising me coffee on my front porch.

***

“Kiss any hot guys over the weekend?” Harry whispers in my ear Monday morning. It was a couple weeks since I’d snuck him into my room and we had been seeing each other pretty regularly. Harry sat with Regan and I at lunch sometimes despite her glares, and threw me notes often in class that were just bad drawings. But there were days where he would be distant and I would see him flirting with another girl. I would have to scold myself then, even though I was in his bed half the time we never said where we drew the line. Although I felt what I felt, I couldn’t expect any more from him.

This past weekend, Regan and I had driven to a few universities she was interested in and I could potentially be interested in. We’d crashed at a friend’s dorm before driving back Sunday afternoon. It gave me a small thrill that Harry might have been thinking about me kissing other guys even though he didn’t text me once.

“That depends on what you define as a hot guy,” I tease as I turn around but Harry looks annoyed.

“Oh,” he stares. “So you had fun over the weekend?”

His annoyance rubs me the wrong way, he could flirt with people and do whatever he wanted but he was annoyed at a joke? “Lots, not that you would know since you went awol yourself.”

Harry raises a brow but I just shrug and turn to the front. He was probably hanging out with other girls, not that I should care. But when it’s confirmed when Regan shows me the instagram story of someone she follows, I click through and find he was indeed. The picture shows him, a girl from our basketball team, and Josslyn on the beach getting high. My stomach churns for the rest of the day but I don’t dare bring it up. I just tell him we needed a break, maybe the distance would stop the obsession.

***

Harry was throwing one of his parties on Friday. With his parents gone most of the time it was the perfect place to host our class. This morning when he told Regan and I to swing by, I’d lingered behind and we’d made up. I was still nervous about the party, even though Harry and I were on again.

At the party, I hang out with Regan, Adam, and his friends for a bit. I talk to a few other friends and see some unfamiliar face. Harry catches up to me halfway through and apologises.

“I got caught up with everyone,” he says, his words softened with alcohol. I had seen glimpses of him with his friends, seen him flirt with a few girls when he came in but he ended up with me here so I don’t hold onto it.

“That’s okay,” I place my hand without a drink on his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat underneath. “You’re here now.”

He wraps his arms around me, “You’re staying the night right?” He whispers in my ear. It tickles and I giggle.

“As long as you don’t get too drunk.”

“So you won’t help me out if I get too drunk?” He pouts.

I laugh, about to say something but someone comes up to us in our private moment. Josslyn.

“Harry! Thanks for the invite!” Josslyn puts her arms out so Harry lets go of me to give her a hug. I try to wash away the possessive paranoia with my beer but I feel it creeping up. Josslyn glances over at me and I give her a smile.

“Hey,” I say awkwardly.

“Hi! You’re from the drive-in right?”

I was surprised she remembered me considering she didn’t even look at me that day. “Yeah, the same one.”

“Ooh,” she glances between us. “So are you two like dating or something?”

“Uhm...” Harry and I awkwardly look at one another as we try to find the right words. “Not really-“ I start to say as Harry says, “We just hang out...”

“That makes sense,” she flashes her eyes at Harry and I feel more insecure than ever. It reminds me that they did hang out together on the beach, maybe more often than I knew. Harry looks unbothered though. “So I can steal Harry away for a bit? You don’t mind? It’s been a while since we caught up!”

“I don’t own him,” I fake laugh even though I want to shout leave us alone liar!

I watch them leave, a sinking feeling in my stomach as Harry only glances my way before leaving. I stumble from group to group after that, finally locating Regan in a game of beer pong. I cheer her on and almost convince myself I was having fun but I continue to scan the room for Harry. My phone finally buzzes later in the night, Harry was upstairs asking me to come up.

“Harry?” I ask quietly as I knock on his door and peer around the corner. He’s laying on his floor shirtless and his room needs airing out. I sigh and open his window. “Where did you get the weed?”

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Harry says from the floor. “Where were you?”

“I was downstairs, at your party. You disappeared with Josslyn.” I can’t hide the edge in my voice.

“She shared her stash,” Harry says, his voice a low rumble. “We just talked about life.”

“Right, is this all she does?” It seemed Harry and her only ever got high together. “Did you want anything? I was watching Regan win and I’d like to go back if I’m here for no reason.”

“No wait,” he gets up slowly and walks to me, trying to kiss me but I pull away.

“I’m not interested right now Harry,” I push his arms off me. All I knew was he left with Josslyn and ended shirtless on his floor, high and alone. Who knows what they did.

“I was alone this whole time,” Harry tries to convince me. “She left a long time ago.”

“She left that too?” I point to a tanktop draped on his bed.

“That’s....that’s yours?” Harry says.

“Oh right, I forgot what my own fucking clothes look like.”

I stomp to the door but he calls out, “You’re making it a big deal! Nothing happened!”

I didn’t trust that. Not when he lied to my face like that.

***

At school on Monday, Harry tries to talk to me but I ignore him all morning. He forces me into an empty classroom and tries to win me over but I push him away as a teacher walks in and tells us to leave.

“Y/N,” Harry whines. “It’s not a big deal come on! She’s just an old friend!”

“Did you date her?” I demand, finally stopping by my locker.

“No I-we didn’t date. She’s just an old friend.”

“You keep mentioning,” I roll my eyes.

“Because it’s true, babe.” Harry touches my arm. “Listen. Nothing happened.” When I don’t respond he takes it as in invitation to ask if I wanted to do homework at his place after school. I tell him I’d see.

I end up going. We don’t do a lot of homework.

***

A couple weeks go by without a snag, I finally settle into a rythm for senior year and join the basketball team with Regan for our final year. I go over the endless decisions of what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and on weekends, I would hang out with Harry at his place.

It’s our first game of the season and Regan and I are doing our warmups as we watch the bleachers fill with friends and our rival school.

“Will Harry be here?” Regan asks, although she still didn’t like him she had accepted she would see him from time to time.

“I thought he would. Maybe I should call him.”

I leave the loud gym and duck into the locker room. There’s only two other people, so I shuffle to the side and call Harry.

“Y/N,” he picks up on the fourth ring, he sounds out of breath. “What’s up?”

“Harry,” I say cautiously. “Where are you? I thought you were coming to our first game?”

“Oh shit uh yeah,” he sounds panicked. “I uh can’t-really uhm-.”

I hear a laugh and muffled noise, like Harry had dragged his microphone against his shirt. “Babe I can’t see you right now okay? I’ll swing by at halftime.”

“Oh okay...” before I can say anything he’d hung up. That was weird, unless I was overthinking it. But I remember the muffled noises in the back-he was with someone else.

I slowly put my phone back in my bag and look up, the one girl from my team, I think her name was Valentina. She stays near her locker but she’s obviously listening to my conversation. I don’t think much of it, and head out to find Regan. Screw Harry, we had a game to win.

I take my position as forward and Regan and I exchange fierce looks before smiling. I look around at our rival team, recognising a few from last year. And that’s when I realise why Josslyn looked familiar to me. She stands exactly diagonally from me, already looking at me-I remember her from semi-finals last year.

She narrows her eyes and I do a double take, maybe she was just being friendly competitive. But as the first quarter progresses, she gets aggressive, coming over to my side even when she should be on hers, and making sure to check me as she runs past. I glance at the referree but she doesn’t notice a thing. What was going on?

I ask Regan before the second quarter begins but she hadn’t noticed. She tells me she’d keep an eye out and once the whistle blows for halftime she runs up to me.

“She has it in for you, what did you do to her?” Regan whispers.

“Nothing!” I shout-whisper. “She’s an ‘old friend’ of Harry’s but I don’t know what I did to her...she hates me!”

“She wants to kill you Y/N, I have never-“

“Hey Y/N,” Regan’s interrupted by Harry who finally shows up. I continue drinking my water as he stands there uncomfortably. “Uh, I’m sorry I’m late?”

“Missing the first half isn’t late,” Regan pipes in for me. “It’s missing half the game.”

“Well...sorry for missing half the game,” Harry says but it doesn’t actually sound like he’s sorry. Just on the edge of annoyance. “Could I talk to you alone Y/N?”

I glance at Regan and let her know I was okay. She makes a show of being annoyed and goes to find Adam.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“To say I’m sorry,” Harry says again.

“About?” I raise my eyebrow. There was something he wasn’t telling me, everything about today was off from our phone call to the way Josslyn was attacking me on the court. Speaking of, I glance around and notice her staring at us.

“You know,” Harry doesn’t meet my eye. “Missing your first game and stuff.”

“Okay,” I watch the timer count down our halftime and I needed a water refill. “I’ll catch up with you later. Your ‘old friend’ Josslyn is here if you want to hang out with her!”

Harry stares at me like he’s trying to figure me out, my sarcasm lost on him. I raise my eyebrow which makes him stop. He kisses my cheek and walks to the bleachers. Weird.

***

When we switch sides, Josslyn must’ve negotiated with someone because she stands opposite me.

“Bring it on 15,” Josslyn calls me by my number as we wait for the whistle. She didn’t even know my name.

“Likewise,” I crouch down. “We don’t lose on home turf.”

“Too bad you already lost on home turf,” she says just as the whistle blows and she’s off. My head spins as I try to figure out what she meant and I end up missing a pass. My teammates shoot me a look and I try to focus. But Josslyn continues to taunt me and try to mess with me. By the end of it, we win by three and I gloat as much as I want to.

Until Valentina corners me in the changeroom.

“Hey, Y/N. I know we don’t talk much but can we talk? Girl-to-girl?”

I walk towards the windows and she follows. “What’s up Val?”

“I...don’t know how to say this. I’ve been friends with Harry for a while and Josslyn too...” As soon as I hear the name I realise it was her instagram Regan had shown me. And that’s why she was eavesdropping on the conversation. Her and Josslyn were friends. “...a couple times but you should know she doesn’t care he’s with you. I tried to tell her he had a girlfriend but she said he didn’t? I think they...hang out if you know what I mean.”

My ears ring as I stare at Val, what she’s trying to tell me. I couldn’t believe it, I’d been so stupid. Of course that’s what was going on.

“Thanks,” I say abruptly and turn around to grab my stuff from my locker. Letting Regan know I’d meet her at her car. My mind was heaving as everthing clicked into place. Harry’s party, Val’s stories that weekend I was away, how he had lied to my face...the other voice on the line when he said he couldn’t come to the first half. It was Josslyn. He was with Josslyn.

I’m still in my shorts, only having changed my shirt. But I storm out and find Harry at his car where he said he would be.

“Hey Y/N, where are we celebrat-“

“Josslyn,” I say and Harry shuts up. “You and Josslyn? Really? It’s one thing to do it and another thing to fucking lie to me for weeks!”

“Okay wait, can we talk somewhere-“

“No!” I shove Harry in his chest and he stumbles into his car. “I-I’m such an idiot! Everyone told me this would happen and I thought okay, he’s a player and a flirt but at least he doesn’t lie! But you lie like the truth is a chore, you’re scum just like everyone said you were!”

“Wait!” Harry shouts as I leave. “You can’t be this angry with me, it didn’t mean anything! And we aren’t even together Y/N!”

“You’re really playing that card?” I spin around. “We never drew the line but read the fucking signs Styles, I thought we made it clear how we felt. You didn’t even care at all did you?”

I ignore what he says and head back, towards Regan’s car to wait for her. People in the lot stare but I don’t care. And to make it worse, I walk past a group of the other team on my way to Regan’s car and Josslyn is one of them. She smirks and I want to strangle her.

“I told you you’d already lost,” she says as I shoot her a dirty look.

“It’s not called losing when he was never worth having,” I stick up my middle finger and use my rage to propel me the rest of the way without breaking down. As soon as I sit in Regan’s car, I break down. She doesn’t say anything, just turns up the music and we go for a drive.

***

Harry tries to speak to me. Through text or calls, he tries to pass me notes and tap my shoulder but Regan offers to switch seats and I accept it. I was torn between feeling absolutely nothing and wanting to cry into a tub of ice cream. Mostly I was angry, at Harry but also myself.

After practice on Thursday, I walk towards the bus stop with my gym bag bouncing off my knees. Regan couldn’t make practice so I didn’t have a ride, but I didn’t mind-I could use the time to clear my head....Until the very person I was trying to clear away falls into step with me. Harry.

“Y/N can we talk? You’re avoiding me and I feel really bad about what happened I just want to talk.”

“Nothing to talk about,” I pick up my pace.

“I’m sorry okay? I fucked up but we were never an item Y/N! We never said what we were. It didn’t mean anything with Joss.”

He hits the nail on the head, the same thing I was angry at myself about. I try to continue my steely silence but I couldn’t, not with the way he says her name.

“I know that Harry, we never said where we drew the line, but I’m sure you read the signs. You knew what we had was different. But I guess you had to go and ruin it just so you could get a quick fuck and I’m sure you had fun doing it too so I’ll leave you to her. I don’t care anymore.”

“Y/N wait don’t say that! Don’t give up on us! It-it wasn’t like that! I didn’t know...wait!” Harry falls behind as I continue speed walking but he catches up at the bus shelter. There’s no one else waiting so it’s hard to ignore him.

“Y/N, it just happened. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it just happened.”

I snort, not amused in the least. “You were hanging out with her whenever we were off, maybe when we were on too. It was bound to happen,” I turn and watch for the bus so I didn’t have to look at his face, “those things don’t just happen. They don’t.”

“Okay listen, we can take a break. If you want space I can give that to you. I hate fighting, Y/N you mean something to me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’m thinking now just please. I never said it before but you mean a lot to me, you’re different Y/N...I’m different around you and I-well I-“

“Harry,” I force him to stop. I didn’t want him to say the words out of desperation. Not like this. Not from him. I see the bus off in the distance, finally. “Harry you act like you’re the victim but you hurt me, you lied to me like telling the truth was a chore to you. You’re right though. I was never yours. I don’t want to fight...I just never wanna talk again.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something just as the bus pulls up. I turn to face him once more.

“Don’t call me, what we had...whatever is was, is over.” I turn as the doors open but not before saying: “I hope that it was worth it, fucking Josslyn.”

His mouth opens in disbelief, the same mouth I used to dream about when it wasn’t kissing me, and be consumed by when it was. The person I knew would ruin me but I thought might turn out different. The guy I toed a line with but will never cross. Especially not anymore.

I flash my card to the bus driver and hoist my bag onto my shoulder as I shuffle further into the bus. My legs ache from practice and my stomach rumbles as I sit. This was senior year, it’d been fun but this was my future. Harry wasn’t the kind of guy who was ever going to be in my future.

As the bus groans and moves forward, I look out the window. Harry sits at the bus stop with his head in his hands, maybe this was a turning point for him. Maybe he was going to change. Maybe he wasn’t. But I couldn’t stick around to find out. I decided I was going to move on, and leave him in the dust with his Josslyn.

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles #olivia o'brien #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

[hyunsracha]

some things — kim seungmin

word count: 2.6k

summary: your life with seungmin was full of routines. but some things change.

Some things never change, you assumed.

The cool metal of bleachers was a constant under your thighs, as was the open binder that sat in your lap. The contents of said binder changed with the seasons, but your eyes scanned them the same. The analytical glare you always wore stayed the same, eyes only ever softening when they came into contact with him. 

Him, with his perfectly styled hair, hours of practice barely messing up the strands. Fitted baseball uniform snuggly pressed against his tall frame, beads of sweat forming at the brow. The sounds of his heavy steps on the bleachers were music to your ears as you pulled your attention from the papers in front of you. 

“What are you studying?” He breathed out, accepting the water you offered to him out of habit.

“Cost-benefit analysis.”

“Again?”

“Unfortunately so. A majority of the class failed our last test on it, so we’re doing it again.”

He chuckled, “But you passed, right?”

“94%.” You grumbled down at the paper. You shouldn’t have to relearn things you already knew. But you had familiarized yourself with every part of this course the first week; you weren’t learning anything new at this point. You closed the binder when he cleared his throat.

“Wanna take a trip to Smith’s? On me.” It was always Smith’s, and it was always on him. But that’s just the way the two of you were. Since you were freshmen in high school, 4 years ago. Your father had gotten a job at a firm in a different city, causing you to uproot your entire life just after middle school ended. On your first day in a completely new area, Seungmin saw you eating lunch alone and decided to join you.

“C...Can I sit here?” You remember him saying, pointing a shaky finger to the seat beside you. And you had nodded, forcing yourself to hide an excited smile.

“What’s that?”

“Oh!” You frowned at the heavy book you had placed next to your tray, “It’s a law textbook. My dad is a lawyer, and he wants me to be one, so I have to read all of this stuff.” You didn’t know what you wanted to be yet, but you certainly didn’t want to be a lawyer. You would frankly rather die than argue with strangers in stuffy ties all day long. But apparently, Seungmin did, “I wanna be a lawyer! Can I see it?” You nodded again, pushing the book his way. You allowed yourself to smile once you saw the way his eyes lit up at the words on the pages. 

Seungmin hasn’t left your side since.

Maybe that’s why you fell in love with him years ago. Because he never left your side. Even after you broke each other’s hearts on a set of bleachers identical to the ones you were sitting on now, too young and too dumb to be good for each other, he never left you. 

You forced yourself up, collecting all of your things and putting them in your bag before following Seungmin to his car. You knew how to drive, and you had a car of your own that you bought in high school, but Seungmin’s car was nicer, and he was nice enough to drive you around all the time. You knocked impatiently on the window for Seungmin to unlock the passenger side door, as you always did. And you immediately plugged your phone into the aux once you were seated, as you always did. Full of routines, you and Seungmin. But that’s what worked between the two of you. How could you ever want to do anything different? 

Well…

You watch him while he drives, a playlist of Dean and Day6 songs soft in the background. He drove with one hand, the other resting on the center console, tapping mindlessly. Maybe you did want to do something different. Maybe you wanted to reach out and wrap your fingers around his. Maybe it would feel like it used to.

You shook your head. You already knew you and Seungmin wouldn’t work out. But then, why was your face suddenly red at the mere thought of holding your best friend’s hand?

Smith’s was a small cafe on the outskirts of town. The two of you have had many a study date here. The warm atmosphere mixed with its cheap coffee made it one of your favorite places in town. Bonus points for the cute barista you had made friends with at the beginning of the year. 

“(Name)! Seungmin! My favorite customers! Your regulars, I assume?” The previously mentioned barista chirped. How Jisung could be so cheerful all the time, you didn’t know. But you always appreciated the extra brightness he brought to your days. You made small talk with the boy as Seungmin paid, not failing to notice the brightness of his cheeks and the small sun he drew on your cup, but not your friend’s. You knew Jisung had a bit of a crush on you; he had practically admitted it to you one night when you were studying alone. And you would go for it, honestly, but there was something holding you back.

That something pushed the warm cup of coffee into your hands, tilting his head toward your favorite table. You followed his footsteps, situating yourself in the booth. The two of you always sat here. Same table, same drinks, same boy. And it felt right.

Conversation with Seungmin was always easy. How was class, how was practice, is that one professor still seemingly trying to flunk you? You could flow from topic to topic with the brunet without skipping a beat. This was the purest version of yourself; no schoolwork, fathers, or expectations making you act differently. Seungmin always brought out the real you, and you figured one day you would have to thank him for that.

Some things do change, you discovered.

You looked past Seungmin’s sheepish grin as his words sunk in. 

You were sitting on the bleachers again. This time, your binder was open to a print-out

about personal finance. Seungmin wore the same baseball uniform with the same perfect hair. But this time, something was different. 

Seungmin was telling you about his upcoming date.

It wasn’t the first time either of you had started seeing somebody else, obviously. It had been over two years since you broke up. 

Let’s see...you had dated Hwang Hyunjin junior year. It ended horribly. You also went on a few dates with Lee Minho last semester. And Seungmin had dated Choi Lia that same year. And Shin Ryujin senior year. And Yang Jeongin senior year. None of those relationships ever upset you. Well, except for the breakups. Especially his breakup with Ryujin. That one was messy.

So why did the idea of Seungmin going on a date with someone new make your stomach flip with something besides excitement for your closest friend? But you smiled anyway, shutting your binder firmly, “Tell me about it!”

“Well..” He started rambling about this boy named Felix that he had met in his algebra class. You could see how excited he was in the way his eyes shone and his hands shook. You couldn’t not be happy for him. So you swallowed your unnamed feelings and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You got this, Min. He’s gonna love you.”

And love him, he did. As did you.

You couldn’t be mad, you really couldn’t. Especially not at Felix. He was probably one of the sweetest people you had ever met. 

Seungmin introduced the two of you at Smith’s, at your favorite table. At first, you were upset. How dare someone come and stain the perfect routine you have with Seungmin? But then you got to know the boy, and you understood why Seungmin liked him so much. Felix was a pretty boy with a face full of stars, yet he shone like the sun. You tried to ignore the burn in your chest when you looked down and saw their hands intertwined. 

When Felix left to go to the bathroom, Seungmin turned to you with the brightest smile you had ever seen, “He’s cute, right?”

You forced a laugh from your throat as you nodded, “He really is. I can tell he likes you a lot.” Of course you know what it looked like when someone liked Seungmin. All you had to do was look in a mirror. 

The three of you stayed at your table for a few hours, chatting and giggling until Seungmin said he had to take Felix home. After they waved goodbye, you let out the groan you had been holding for hours, resisting the urge to slam your head on the table. 

You needed a drink. Not alcohol, but hot coffee to warm the coldness inside of you. Approaching the counter, you plaster on a smile, “Hey, Jisung.”

He smiled back, something big and bright and beautiful, “Hey, (Name). The usual?” You nodded in response. As he turned to prepare your drink, he spoke again, “Why do you always get the same thing? Why don’t you try switching it up?”

You hummed. He did have a point, you supposed. You liked your drink, and you liked your table, but sometimes you itched for something new. Seungmin was breaking from your routines. Maybe it was your turn. 

Perching on one of the stools near where Jisung was currently working, you answer him, “I think I will try something new today. I’ll get an iced matcha latte instead. And…” You heaved a sigh. Maybe it was time to move on; start new routines, “...and your number.” 

Some changes are necessary, you’re still learning.

Being with Jisung was good. Jisung was good to you. You felt good around Jisung. He was a perfect gentleman, the type to open doors for you and pull out your chair. He made you laugh, and he was one hell of a kisser.

Seungmin unfortunately had to discover that when you showed up to your spot on the bleachers late one day with messy hair and swollen lips. He just stared at you, an unknown feeling bubbling in his chest. He knew that your appearance was because of Jisung, and he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe he was feeling protective. His best friend was messing around with some barista boy they barely knew. That was it, right? 

He pointed to your neck, clicking his tongue at the purple mark present on your skin, “What is that?”

Your hand followed his finger, face flushing a dark red once you realized, “Shit! Sorry, that was...Jisung...he- yeah.” The collar of your shirt was too low for you to cover it, so you just kept your hand over the spot, unable to make eye contact with the boy in front of you. His eyebrows shot up, and you could see his jaw clench before you, “Okay.” He turned to go back to practice, his break long over. He seemed upset, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe he was just being protective. But you were an adult, you could handle a hickey or two. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, opening your binder once more.

Weeks passed, and you believed you were settling into a new routine. A routine that involved more Jisung than before. Not quite joined at the hip, you and Jisung spent lots of time together. And you always pushed for more. He was so good, so kind, so sweet. But something was missing. So you planned more dates, hoping to light that spark that would start a fire. 

It never came.

On one of those dates, you spilled your guts. You had drank a little too much. You were still conscious, but you were feeling a little loose-lipped. Blame the Desperate Housewives drinking game the two of you were playing. Your guts just so happened to be filled with love and affection for your best friend, as opposed to the boy sitting across from you who looked at you with stars in his eyes. He had only sighed, taking your cup from you and dumping the remnants in the sink.

“You’re not mad?” You had pouted. 

He breathed out a sad chuckle, “No. I sort of expected it. I’ve seen you two interact...I knew I was only a placeholder. It’s okay.”

He walked you home that night and helped you get ready for bed, only leaving after he was sure you were asleep, plugging your phone in in the living room so you didn’t drunkenly text anyone.

You were thinking too much. Thinking too much about a certain boy, which only made you feel more guilty, considering that boy wasn’t the one you broke up with the night before. So you came to your spot on the bleachers. A part of you hoped he would sense you here and come running, wrap you up in his arms and make it all better. But he was probably out with his boyfriend right now. God, you felt so stupid. Falling in love with your best friend again? Not to mention the whole ex-boyfriend thing. Maybe you never stopped. Maybe every time you looked at him and felt your heart rate increase, it wasn’t in a friendly way. You wrapped your arms around yourself. The wind was cold and you were only wearing a thin t-shirt. You should’ve thought about this before running out here, but the bleachers were the only place you wanted to be right now. You couldn’t cry; you weren’t sad enough to cry. Your phone pinged once, twice, three times. No doubt texts from Jisung, probably saying that he wasn’t mad and he would see you at the cafe and you were still friends. 

The sounds of his heavy steps on the bleachers were music to your ears as you pulled your attention from the baseball diamond in front of you. You furrowed your brow, “What are you doing here?”

He took a seat next to you, “I could ask you the same.” He paused, “Felix and I broke up.”

Well, that was surprising. You turned to face him, concern lacing your features. He felt your eyes on him. He always did. “I realized some things and...we just weren’t meant to be.” You wouldn’t pressure him to speak, but you couldn’t help your curiosity. 

“Jisung and I broke up, too.” His head snapped in your direction, making surprised eye contact with you. He reached out, placing a warm palm on your knee. Your skin burned at the touch, like it usually did. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I realized some things, too.”

“Count of three?”

“Count of three.”

This was a thing the two of you had always done. If you both had news to share, you would say it at the same time, so one piece didn’t overpower the other.

“1...2..3...I still love you-”

“I still love you-”

The wind seemed to suddenly halt its attack on your shivering frame. The two of you stared at each other blankly, your minds taking their time processing each other’s words.

I still love you.

You’re opening your mouth to respond when Seungmin takes the initiative, leaning forward and crashing into your lips, rough and gentle at the same time. Your entire body feels like it’s been set on fire, scalding skin set ablaze by Seungmin’s lips over yours. His hands are on your cheeks, your neck, your waist; anywhere he can grab to pull you closer. This is what he was missing. He liked Felix, but the boy was unable to light a fire inside of him like you did. Powerful yet warming, every movement of his lips was laced with the adoration he had been holding in his heart since you broke up all those years ago.

Some things change for the better. You and Seungmin change for the better. 

#seungmin #kim seungmin #stray kids #skz #seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids seungmin #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

[sandu-zidian]

Blabbing about this Musician!au I started last summer that has now also turned into a marching band!au because I got sad and nostalgic because despite how shitty it could be, marching band defined my high school life and social life and I couldn’t had asked for anything else.

I also don’t have every single prequel character (because this au is surrounding the prequel characters) in Star Wars smacked into here, and I gave up halfway through a couple of months ago in terms of brainstorming. Anyways, this is hella long so check everything out under the line if you’d like! don’t want to spam everyone with something that’s like, 4 pages long

Now, you might be asking. What instruments are these characters playing, or what are they doing in marching band? well, boy oh boy do I have some lore for you.

Anakin Skywalker: alright lets start of with the “Chosen One”. Now, I gotta say. He’s got some intense brass vibes, specifically high brass. But I don’t know. He didn’t really mesh well. And given his natural talent with the Force in canon, I thought that Anakin would be a sort of prodigy. And we all know the two instruments associated with that: the piano and violin. He’s more of a piano dude, so here we go! piano prodigy Anakin Skywalker. He also gives mad drumline vibes, and I can see him as either the lead snare, setting the tempo, or the main quad player. He’s brash, slightly obnoxious, but damn is he fucking good at what he does.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I literally started this AU on the idea that Obi-Wan would play the cello. One of the defining quotes for him is that fucking “infinite sadness” quote. And we all know that cellos play some of the saddest pieces out there. (see: Elgar cello concerto) However, I can’t see him as a marching band dude. He doesn’t really give off color guard vibes (since that’s where most non-band people go to) so I have him as the resident student helper who everyone tolerates because he brings ice cream after band camp.

Ahsoka Tano: Ahsoka is a flute player. As a flute player, I have intimate knowledge on this. She’s like the chill flute player who’s competitive enough to keep her position as principal, but is also chill enough to not have a big ego that butts heads with everyone. She also gives mad color guard vibes. Also speaking about that from personal experience (am I lowkey projecting my own experiences on her? you didn’t hear that from me). She seems like the type to love swing flags and sabre, and is 100% captain by senior year.

I have Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka as siblings in this AU because I say so. Qui-Gon is around here somewhere as the resident hippie dad who lowkey smokes pot and will support his children while giving a big ‘fuck you’ to Dooku. 

Yoda’s also in here somewhere, and I love the idea that he’s an old Chinese/Asian man who refuses to speak english and will only do so with the most backwards grammar so his grandchild (Qui-Gon) and great-grandchildren (the trio) are forced to speak Mandarin/Cantonese to him (pick your poison). He just spends his days cutting up fruit and also might pull out his erhu if everyone asks nice enough. (I want to say he was a Peking Opera musician, but immigrated during Mao’s reign after he lost opportunities during the cultural revolution)

So, I know that it doesn’t make sense for a family to have 3 sets of twins and one triplet set, but fuck that I do what I want.

Cody Fett: okay so, Cody 100% plays the french horn. I don’t know, he just, he does. He’s got that air of sophistication because he can play the hardest brass instrument, but at the same time, he’s incredibly good at it and is matter-of-fact about it. He also would be the mello section leader (I was playing with the idea of drum major, but for now, leaving him as a section leader for now). He’s a bit uptight to be a low brass player, but cool enough to still be associated with the general brass group.

Rex Fett: I got Rex and Cody as the eldest Fett twins. Rex feels like a string player, so I have him on violin. I can see him be very hardworking and practicing diligently to the point where he easily sweeps through to concertmaster in high school and the local youth orchestra. He also gives of mad drum major vibes. I can see him copying music, handing out drill charts, and hauling the met around. Also, just think about Rex doing a fancy ass salute at competitions. Yes.

Next round of twins lets gooo

Jesse Fett: You could say Jesse has brass vibes. I see him as a reed person though. In concert band, he’s on clarinet. I used to think clarinets were as stuck up as us flutes but no they’re literally balls of chaotic energy ready to be unleashed. Just imagine Jesse blaming everything on his reed. I see him as the guy who switches to saxophone for marching band, though. He’s got the energy of the clarinet and the saxophone harnessed. Also, wouldn’t be surprised if he knows how to play the sousa.

Kix Fett: Y’know, when I originally made this AU, I had Kix as a musician as well. I’m gonna scratch that. He’s going to medical school, or at least, he’s planning to. He’s on the pre-med track and is dying in organic chemistry and wishes there weren’t so many pre-requisites. However, in high school, he definitely played the oboe. Of course Kix chose one of the hardest instruments to play. Also, just imagine him trying to make his own reeds. I don’t see him as a guy who’s in marching band. He’ll come to competitions and maybe football games if he’s bullied into it. Kix is the guy who’s classes are all AP and he’s dying inside.

Next round of twins yeet:

Fives Fett: shit, I forgot I gave them all real names. If I remember correctly, Fives is Frank. Anyways, trumpet vibes. Need I say more? He’s on the trumpet in marching band as well and he’s the dude who’s obsessed with DCI and always tries to play as high as he possibly can and absolutely demolishes his chops. I would say he’s section leader as well. He also hangs with the drumline at the back of the bus and always plays meme songs on blast and sends weird pictures to people’s phone via open airdrop.

Echo Fett: I think his birth name is Ethan??? I’m spitting thoughts not checking my old documents. Anyways. Echo feels like a string person. Specifically, low strings. So, he plays the bass. Upright bass. Whatever. You get what I mean. He sleeps in the case after school and hates hauling it everywhere. He was in marching band as a mello player (the easiest brass instrument to pick up for the activity so) but he was in a car crash that left him paralyzed from the hip down, and had to quit to recover. He never stopped playing, and found ways to adjust. (I do not know how exactly this would work, since I’m able bodied and also don’t play the bass, but I know he’d at least have a stool to sit on in order to lean his body on. let me know if you have other ideas i’d love to hear them!)

Finally, we got the triplets:

Dogma Fett: Dogma plays the bassoon. He’s a low reed kinda guy and between the bari sax, bass clarinet, and bassoon, he fits the last one the best. He and Kix moan over making reeds and he’s on the quieter side. He just vibes and plays all the low notes and has fun whenever he’s got some moving part. I see Dogma as someone who is only casually into marching band. He uses Jesse’s old student clarinet as his instrument and he’s always on time, knows his sets, and his technique is on point. He always finds himself roped into his brothers’ shenanigans though.

Tup Fett: Tup plays the harp. I like to think he met Shaak Ti (we’ll get to her in a bit) when he was young, and she was playing with an orchestra. He met her backstage and she offered to give him lessons. Tup’s not really a part of high school orchestra but sometimes he’ll be brought in. He’s more involved with solo work and the youth orchestra more than anything. Tup’s another on where I don’t think he’d be into marching band. Though I can see him being in winter guard as the dude who just shows up and is lowkey rip and therefore is a hunk on the rifle. His technique’s good but they’ve never been able to saddle him into fall guard.

Hardcase Fett: (i’ve given up on remembering the birth names so i’m just gonna not) Hardcase is 100% low brass vibes. He can’t be anything but a low brass. I see him as a tuba player. He’s chill, laid back, but also reliable for being the foundation of the band sound. He plays the sousaphone in marching band and always blasts either Seven Nation Army or some other popular show tune right after rehearsals. Hardcase also can play the bari sax and no one knows when he learned how to. 

OKAY we’re done with the Fett’s! Jango and Boba are in here somewhere but honestly I don’t have enough brainpower to come up with what their roles are. Jango’s gonna be a good dad though. Maybe he was a musician and that’s why most of his kids are going into music. Or maybe he’s just a supportive father. Boba’s the youngest though, that’s for sure. And he’s a little shit. Don’t know if he plays an instrument (probably) or what it might be.

Now lets get into some other characters! There’s a lot. And I wasn’t even halfway done with the characters I wanted to include. What the hell was I on last summer?

Padmé Amidala: Padmé is a flute player who quit after freshman year of high school and started taking music production and music theory classes. She loved it so much that she decided that composing was her jam. Now, she’s highly successful and often works with well known pianist, Anakin Skywalker, on piano concertos. Also, she may or may not be dating said pianists but you didn’t hear that from me.

Satine Kryze: twosetters don’t shit on me but Satine feels like she’d play the viola. She and Obi-Obi-Wan definitely dated in high school but after a year broke up on mutual terms and are just good friends now. A lot of people feel like she’d have been a better political science/international studies major than a music major but she’s good so no one complains (until she gets into a fighting match with someone and wins smugly)

Bo-Katan Kryze: shes Satine’s younger sister and is a mad athlete. She doesn’t play any instruments but she’s deeply active and is on scholarship for college, on the pre-med track with Kix. She’s very scary and most people are too intimidated by her to approach.

Plo Koon: I originally had him as an asian man, but I can see Native American as well. He plays the euphonium and he’s just a sweet man. He helps out a lot with private lessons at local high schools and is often brought in to help with low brass during marching band.

Wolffe Koon: Wolffe and Gregor (get to him in a bit) were both adopted by Plo when their parents died when they were very young. Plo was their godfather and he took them in like they were his own. They’re cousins to the Fett brothers (though don’t ask me how I have no idea). Wolffe is an engineer and works close to home.

Gregor Koon: Gregor is Wolffe’s younger brother and had a short stint of musical interest in middle school but quit after he entered high school. Gregor was in a serious car crash during college that left him amnesiac for a year before some of his memories returned. He now owns a restaurant and sticks close to home. Wolffe often comes around to check up on him because his brain injury still impacts his current life in small physical and emotional dips

Kit Fisto: Kit gives off mad trombone vibes and it’s mostly because he seems incredibly laid back. He’s one of those brass players who’s just a nice guy and while jokes around, never got pulled into jokes as a student.

Shaak Ti: like I said above, Shaak Ti is most definitely a harpist. She has that ethereal quality I think is common in harpists. She’s a tall Indian woman and she loves her job! She’s a private lesson teacher and instructor at the conservatory on top of her job in the orchestra since she’s not called in often to play. She loves all her students and gives good hugs.

Mace Windu: Mace is the director of the Jedi Symphony, the orchestra which almost everyone is involved with. He is a bass player and he likes his more classical pieces over contemporary music. He’s good friends with Yoda and sometimes the old troll has to wack some sense into Windu and have him take on newer pieces. Windu 100% gives off unhinged director vibes because mistakes and lazy musicians definitely don’t end after high school/college is over.

Quinlan Vos: this lil shithead definitely is the obnoxious, slightly arrogant, but kind of deserving of that, percussionist. He loves his snare drum and is also in the drumline. He’s the same age as Obi-Wan and the two are close friends. Quinlan is definitely slightly unhinged and is always at the back of the bus causing havoc after competitions. He’s the guy that I (OP) hate but also can’t help but respect cuz yeah he’s annoying but at least he’s good.

Aayla Secura: Aayla is Quinn’s half-sister, and plays the French horn. Again, like Cody, she’s got this air of professionalism that I associate with French horn players and like, we gotta represent the girls in brass somehow. She just fits it really nicely.

I feel like now is the time to list who’s still in conservatory and who isn’t: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Cody, Jesse, Quinlan, Padmé, and Satine are all recent graduates. Ahsoka, Aayla, Fives, Echo, Tup, Dogma, and Hardcase are still in conservatory (at varying years of course). Kix and Bo are entering med school/frantically applying and banging their heads cuz MCATs. Wolffe and Gregor are older and have been in the field for quite some time now. Plo, Kit, Shaak, and Mace are all faculty/seasoned professionals.

Somehow, I was gonna bring in The Skiratas (with proper research cuz I know very little about them), Dooku, Ventress, the Oppress siblings, rest of Domino Squad, Cut Lawquene, the other CCs, and more. I designated a page out of my sketchbook for this and my oh my the flow chart was hella confusing. How I thought I was gonna handle that in the summer before my first year of college, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll brainstorm more in the future but for now, this is all I have :]]]

Also excuse some of my slightly unhinged language I started writing this a few days ago while slightly unfocused and tired and stressed so my language is a product of that

#star wars #meta #musician au #my thoughts #I miss marching band so fucking much #I miss DCI #and WGI #miss the community #even if it was pretty stressful at times cuz drama #people love their drama in band #I don’t blame them you get sick of people after band camp #star wars au

[thethirdamell]

I’ve seen a lot of people posting a few writing memes about fic titles so I just wanted to break down where all of mine have come from and what they mean in Accursed Ones because I’m bored. Probably nothing you don’t already know in here

1. Awakening  - Name of the game + Anders literally waking up + metaphorically waking up and understanding his obligation to help 2. Nothing For It - Mean to imply that Anders had no alternative but to help and be helped by Amell in turn 3. Conscription  - What it says on the tin 4. Joining  - What it says on the tin 5. It Comes From Beneath  - Name of the quest 6. Last of the Legion  - Name of the quest 7. Memories of the Stone  - Name of the quest 8. A Night of Revelry - Meant to be ironic considering what happens 9. Freedom for Anders  - Name of the quest 10. Freedom for Anders Part Two - Name of the quest 11. The Righteous Path  - Name of the quest 12. In Retreat, Panic  - A play on the Grey Warden motto. (Also my favorite chapter in the story.) 13. All Soul's Day - Name of the annum 14. The Dark Theurge  - Name of the demon 15. Paramour  - Name of the achievement for a romance 16. Ground Rules - Ground rules for a relationship 17. Lost in Dreams  - Name of a similar quest 18. Far Afield - Name of the quest 19. Far Afield Part Two - Name of the quest 20. Uprising  - Name of the quest 21. The Resolutionist and The Aequitarian - Amell and Wynne’s respective fraternities  22. Serpents High, Angels Low - Both the rules of the team’s card game and an over-arching theme of the fic where things that are presumed to be good/evil are often the reverse.  23. Malleus Maleficarum  - The name of a treatise on witchcraft elevating sorcery to heresy and a song Malleus Maleficarum by Ordo Funebris 24. Shadows of the Blackmarsh  - Name of the quest 25. The Blackmarsh Undying  - Name of the quest 26. Pride Goes Before Destruction - A reference to the Pride demon and Amell’s pride in thinking he can handle it 27. And a Haughty Spirit Before a Fall - A reference to Justice and Anders falling for Amell 28. The Apple And The Tree - A quote about Amell being like his father 29. Lullabies - A Song - Lullabies by Yuna 30. Fools Gold - Meant to reference both Quentin and Anders’ happiness. Also a song Fools Gold Fitz and the Tantrums.  31. Eyes of the Beholder - A play off “Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder” meant to reference the difference between Amell and Anders’ perspectives on losing his eyes.  32. Blame it on the Night - Meant to indicate what happened isn’t Anders’ fault. Also a song - Blame it on the Night by Calvin Harris  33. White Lies, Red Eyes - A reference to both the colors of the Amell family and Amell’s personality 34. Spirits and Demons - What it says on the tin 35. Love is Blind - An overarching theme in the story. 36. Satinalia - Name of the annum 37. Brothers and Sisters - A reference to Wardens and Anders still having family without Amell.  38. Score One for Our Heroes - Meant to be ironic. Also a quote from Anders. 39. Out of Control - The current state of things and also a reference to A Leader on Losing Control by Corb Lund which is a Leonie song.  40. Justice for Naught - Meant to imply that sometimes there is no justice but you have to keep trying anyway 41. Here's to Us Blighters - What Oghren says when night is darkest 42. Bold and Brazen and Beautiful - Amell’s description of Anders 43. Monsters and Men - Self explanatory for Justice/Anders.  44. The Best Intentions - Oft Go Awry is Unspoken  45. Blessed Are the Peacekeepers - A quote from the Chant of Light 46. Champions of the Just - The rest of the quote. Meant to be ironic.  47. The Black City - A reference to both Kirkwall and the actual Black City 48. Rip Up Your Roots - A quote from Cor and what Anders does to cope, but the follow up, “You ain’t gonna have a tree.” is equally important.  49. A Good Man - A quote from Lirene about Anders 50. First Day - The name of the annum 51. As The Crow Flies - Foreshadowing Anders learning shapeshifting 52. Wintersend - Name of the annum 53. Chasing the Sun - Name of a song. Chasing the Sun by the Wanted.  54. Doubts and Revelations - What it says on the tin 55. Birds of a Feather - Flock together. Both a joke about shapeshifting and Kanders.  56. Snap - What it says on the tin 57. Ray of Sunshine - Joke on Bethany’s name 58. Oopsy Daisy - Joke on Merrill’s name 59. Pretty Reckless - Meant to reference both Anders and Hawke’s behavior.  60. Let's Try This Again - What it says on the tin 61. A Preoccupation with Spirits - A joke about Justice and alcohol 62. Meetings - What it says on the tin 63. Acquainted - Basically just Meetings Part 2 64. Bloodline Part One -  What it says on the tin 65. Bloodline Part Two -  What it says on the tin 66. Trail of Love - Name of the quest but also references Anders’ many past and future loves. Amell, Karl, Isabela, Hawke.  67. Rude Awakening - A call back to the first chapter meant to show how much Anders has changed. Anders takes on the role of Amell here and Hawke takes on the role of Anders with respects to Blood Magic.  68. Safe Harbors - A joke about sex with Isabela 69. The Best Laid Plans - Oft Go Awry is implicit.  70. Oft Go Awry -  What it says on the tin 71. All New, Faded For Him - This was an anagram like the quest in DAI but I can’t remember what it is an anagram for. RIP 72. A Year Ago Today -  What it says on the tin 73. Friends in Low Places - Name of the quest  74. No Turning Back -  What it says on the tin 75. Senior Warden Anders -  What it says on the tin 76. Bodies So Maimed - Quote from the Chant of Light about darkspawn 77. Down in the Dark with the Dead - A quote from Eli 78. Up in the Light with the Life - The opposite of the above quote 79. A Day for Silence - Name of the annum 80. My Failing and My Falling Part One - A line from Anders’ story for Nika and a reference to Hawke’s failure to protect his sister.  81. My Failing and My Falling Part Two - Same as above 82. Pain and Bane - Name of the poem Merrill sings. Also an overarching theme of the story 83. Luck of the Dog - Reference to the Dog Lords but also ironic considering Anders is not lucky.  84. Bird's Eye View - Both a reference to Anders’ transformation magic and his perspective on the Circles and how Bethany doesn’t share them 85. Act of Mercy - Name of the quest 86. The Revolutionists - Name of Decimus’s fraternity 87. Burn After Reading - what it says on the tin 88. Not in Hand, Not in Play - A quote from the chapter but also Fenris’ perspective on love and a theme of the story. It is or it isn’t.  89. Enemies Among Us - Name of the quest 90. Save Me - What it says on the tin 91. Benedictions - A Canticle in the Chant of Light that makes Hawke think of Anders 92. What Will The Neighbors Think? - A mini-theme throughout the story regarding Anders (in)ability to be openly in a relationship, be it with Amell, Justice, Hawke, etc.  93. Have Your Pie and Eat it Too - What Anders keeps trying and failing to do 94. Dead Set on Ending Badly - Foreshadowing  95. Where We Stand - Where Hawke and Anders’ relationship stands 96. Hearts of Gold or Near Enough - Meant to apply to all of the main characters 97. Ghilan’him Banal’vhen - The Path that Leads Astray. Foreshadowing. 98. Abstention and Absolution - Meant to be Ironic 99. Until the Last Dog is Hung - What it says on the tin 100. Free To Good Home - References the mages, Dog Lords, and also Anders 101. It Gets Easier - Narrator Voice: It did not get easier. 102. Luxury of Leaning - A reference to Hawke not having the option to pursue men as the scion of a noble house but doing it anyway because fuck you mom. 103. Dissent - Name of the quest 104. Into Madness - Play on words. Descend into Madness / Dissent into Madness 105. Fester - What it says on the tin 106. The First Sacrifice - Name of the quest 107. Once Removed - Play on words. A reference to Amell/Hawke’s Eyes and Quentin being Hawke’s cousin once removed.  108. Not Again - Haha get wrekt  109. All That Remains - Name of the quest 110. The Way Forward - A reference to Fenris’ quote about the stairs being out. Meant to symbolize that there are no other options for Anders, Hawke, and the narrative as a whole. Also, ironically, meant to show that Hawke does not actually move forward.  111. Lyrium and Lies - Foreshadowing 112. Ser Cumference and the Terrible Tower - A children’s tale vibe meant to show the dichotomy of man.  113. The Calm Before - Foreshadowing for the name of the next chapter.  114. The Storm - What was foreshadowed.  115. Long Time No See - A reference to both not seeing Amell for a long time and Amell not being able to see for a long time.  116. To Catch a Thief - Name of the quest 117. To Save a Sinner - Similar naming methodology of the previous chapter meant to show Isabela is more than just a thief.  118. On Deaf Ears - Both Hawke being deaf and Hawke not agreeing with Anders. 119. Hey Sparkles - Meant to give a “It’s gonna be okay dude” vibe.  120. Give Me A Sign - Sign language reference but also a plea for Hawke and Anders’ relationship to get better. 121. We Should Talk - About both Hawke and Amell, but Amell is the only one Anders talks to in this chapter.  122. The Weight of Years - Shit’s heavy 123. How Have You Been? - Asking the dangerous questions again 124. Spin a Story - Varric’s terrible advice to Anders but also Amell’s approach to interacting with Anders after they’ve been apart for so long. 125. Give and Take Part One - Commentary on Anders relationship with both Amell and Hawke.  126. Give and Take Part Two - See above  127. What You Make It - What love is according to Fenris 128. Letters from the Vigil - What it says on the tin 129. Consent is Key - A quote from the chapter and commentary on responsible use of blood magic.  130. What Have You Done Now? - A song. What Have you Done Now by Within Temptation 131. But This is All I Ever Was - A song lyric. Ditmas by Mumford & Sons 132. Wasted Time - Also a song lyric from Ditmas but like accidentally. 

#ao rambles #ao nonsense #might do this again for apples #what a productive use of my time i regret nothing #don't mind me #just having fun

[clumsyclifford]

yayayy good mood!! 12, 25, 28, 54, 63, 92! I'm using up all the music ones sue me

hgfdlghkgj adorable i love you so much

12. name of your favorite playlist? bro my favorite playlist changes so much. like right now i've been listening a lot to the state champs of what? (which is my complete works of sc playlist) or state champs but it's just bangers playlists because...duh. but in general i default to the LISTEN TO MEEEEEE playlist because it's always the songs i'm currently into. oh also lately i've been listening to men ain't shit.

25. first song you remember hearing? oh dude i have NO idea. okay i'm just gonna go by my oldest memory even though i can't really tell which memories are older than other memories but. basket case by green day. which is a weird one bc i DEFINITELY was not like "raised" on green day, my parents don't listen to green day, they listen to israeli music and billy joel and stuff but for some reason we had that one song on our itunes and i feel like i remember arguing with my older sister about it because i was so sure the song was called "paranoid" because they say that in the chorus of the song and she was saying it was called basket case but i was like how can that be the title if they never say it in the song!!!!! so there's my answer.

28. five songs to describe you? would you believe i have a playlist for this! here we go:

naive by andy grammer - this is literally me in a song. "call me naive, but i believe we're gonna be okay" ??????? get out of my head

i spend too much time in my room by the band camino - get out of my head part 2

lover/loner by nightly - "part of me wishes i was someone else while the other part's always narcissistic as hell" :) "part of me depressed while the other side's happy, fear of missing out but i hate going to parties" :)))))

turning out by ajr - it's not about the story specifically (obviously i've never been in love) but the chorus...and the vibes...half of ajr's discography is highly relatable in a painful way tho so jot that down

prom dress by mxmtoon - this is kinda cheating but this song literally describes my experience like i, too, was sitting here crying in my prom dress my senior year lmao so i feel like i can say it

54. what did you learn from your first job? mmmm what WAS my first job? technically i worked at a farmer's market and uhhh. what DID i learn. good question. how to use a till? i guess? also i memorized the prices for a bunch of different produce. maybe that. idk i learned a lot more from my second job (the summer camp one i still have lmao) but you didn't ask about my second job!

63. five songs that would play in your club? MY CLUB? what a question......

soulmate by lizzo. also rumors by lizzo. i'm putting both lizzo songs in one here because otherwise i will just list her entire discography

see through by the band camino because i like to sing the chorus really fast it's fun

english love affair by 5sos, certified Fucking Banger

not to be basic but either good 4 u or brutal by olivia rodrigo <3

this is a really hard question it's like a six hundred-way tie. i'm gonna end it with...weightless by all time low. another slightly basic answer but imagine how much fun that would be

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? depends what i need the light for!!! but in general, overhead lights. though i do prefer fluorescent/bluish white to incandescent/yellow. for selfie reasons.

weird asks that say a lot

#these were fun questions thank you #ask #team #4thbrighteststar #what is your url from team #i always think it's peter pan #but it's not is it

[bbykpoper]

𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓭𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 💐

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: florist!yeosang x photographer!reader

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // Seonghwa // San // Yunho // Wooyoung // Mingi

･*:༅

“We have the best wedding photographer on hand, she is currently at a photo shoot, so if you wish to see her work you are more than welcome to.” A tall young man spoke to the couple in front of them with a smile. “May I just say, it would be an honour to do your photos. Our whole studio simply adores your sweets!”

“Say it louder, I don’t think they heard how desperate you are Johnny.” 

“Shut it Mark.” 

Glares were exchanged. Small breathless laughs followed the exchange between the boys as the couple nodded in assurance.

“We’d love to work with your studio, and it would be really awesome if we could see the photographer at work!” Song Mingi exclaimed as he held his fianceé’s hand. “When do we leave?”

“Oh, you guys don’t have to go far.” The boy in the hoodie with glasses, named Mark, spoke from the corner. “They’re on the roof.”

“Wonderful, let’s go!”

Johnny was quick to guide them up the steps and through the door. The couple was met with a sight out of a fiction novel. There was a young beauty in a white dress standing in the middle of a field of dandelions the sun beautifully shading her figure on the ground as a bubbly you jumped from one side to another, your dark hair adorned with a very badly made flower crown. 

“That’s her right there, the jumpy rabbit.” Mark pointed at the you in the cargo pants and flower crown on your head. “She’s overly excited sometimes.”

“Y/N!” Johnny yelled out, making you stop and turned to him, your facial features designed to murder him.

“What do you want Johnton?” You asked with a sigh. “Can it wait until the sun rises fully, I’m getting some good material here.”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” He waved. “We’ll just observe the magic.”

“Yeah yeah.” You ignored him as you went back to work, now bringing in the groom as well.

Mingi and his significant other watched you with vigour in their eyes, happy that they decided to go with their guts and come down to this particular studio to get a photographer for their big day. Johnny and Mark stood beside the couple and nodded knowing that you had just convinved them to pay you for a photo shoot.

“Congradulations on your day.” You said to the husband and wife as they happily left the vacinity of your studio. With a small smile on your face you turned towards your friends/roommates/co-workers and their new clients, a big question mark above your head. “Hi, I’m y/n. The main photographer here at NCT photos.”

“Hi, I’m Song Mingi and this is my future wife.”

“Welcome, take a seat please.” You said and sat in between Johnny and Mark. “How can we help you?”

“Our wedding is in a month and our photographer quit on us last minute.” He began explaining to you. “And a friend of ours reffered you guys, so we came here as soon as we could to see if we could book you guys to do our wedding.”

“So which date would that be?” You pulled out a small planner littered in stickers and opened it to the calendar page of the next month.

“It’s on the 7th.” 

“That’s in a week.” Mark deadpanned his face embodying the pikachu meme. 

“Yeah.” Both of them scratched their necks. “To be honest, I proposed three weeks ago.”

“Wow.” Johnny whistled and looked at his friends. “You think we could do this?”

“Where is the wedding?” You asked, just nodding at Johnny’s question.

“It’s going to be at our little home. The back yard is vast and there is space to do the shoot as well as hold the wedding.”

“Can we decorate the shoot according to your wishes?” 

“Yes. We’ll provide you guys with everything. Except the flowers...” Mingi looked at you. “I want to have flowers which will fully bring out my future wife’s beauty. So I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Sure, no problem.” You gave a thumbs up. “I’ll just go down to Jihyo’s place later.”

“Great, we have a friend who works there.” Both said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Kang Yeosang.”

･*:༅

The wheezing laughter that came from Mark had your eye twitching in annoyance. The three of you sat at Sugarberry’s, Johnny patting your shoulder in reassurance while Mark just kept on wheeze laughing while he tried to drink his watermelon flaovured lemonade. Ever since Mingi and his fianceé came by their studio wanting to book them as their photographers and the notion that Yeosang, your not so subtle fan, was their friend and your future co-worker had Mark dying.

You were friends with these two since elementary school. You guys went to the same middle and high school, only parting ways with Mark in college but still living together ever since. Johnny and you opened this small but very well known photography studio in your senior year of college and Mark jumped on the band wagon as a film maker and editor. Ever since then you guys were thriving in your job.

“Can you stop laughing?” You groaned out, sinking deeper into your hoodie. “I don’t think it’s that funny.”

“But it is.” He said, brushing off a tear from his eye. “You’ll be finally working together with Yeosang. How is that not funny?”

“You’re mean.” You mumbled underneath your breath.

“Come on Mark, y/n didn’t make fun of you when you had a crush on your visual arts teacher.” Johnny sighed, taking a bite of his pastry. “Remember, the teacher that had you all hot and bothered?”

“But why don’t you just admit it to yourself that you like him?” Mark suddenly straightened up at the mention of his college visual arts professor. “I mean you do like him?”

“I don’t know okay?” You sighed, playing with the straw of your coffee. “I do consider him to be attractive physically, but how can I like someone who I don’t even know?”

“Well, the easy answer is to get to know him.” Johnny shrugged his shoulders. “For now, you can at least tell him you’ll come to visit the flower shop.” He pointed at the blond boy who smiled shyly at you and waved, having you wave back.

“He didn’t hear our conversation, right?” You asked with an awkward smile on your face.

“I don’t think so.” Mark added, turning around to say hi to him. “You’re good.”

With a deep breath you stood up from your table and walked over to the boy who patiently waited in line to get to order his drinks. You softly tapped his shoulder to gain his attention and his ears turned a soft shade of pink when he figured out who was trying to gain his attention.

“Hi.” You softly greeted.

“Hi.” The smile which glowed on his face almost blinded your cat-like eyes.

“Came to get a drink?”

“Yeah. Jihyo has some orders and couldn’t go out to get us something to drink.” He nodded. “You guys done with work?”

“We’re just beginning.” You sighed. “Mingi booked us to work his wedding. I was surprised he decided to go through with a wedding only after three weeks of engagement.”

“Yeah, they actually pinned for each other for the past two years but were too dumb to notice the other.” Yeosang looked over at Mingi happily whistling in the back and making some cakes. “Oh to be in love.”

You looked up at him and got lost in the warmth he radiated from his body. The afternoon sun nicely shaped his facial features with those deep shadows and you had to control yourself as to not blush or show just how much it affected you.

“Yeah, must be nice.” Your eyes longingly stayed on him. “By the way, I’ll be dropping by the flower shop tomorrow. I need to pick out some flowers for Mingi’s photo shoot.”

“Really?” His eyes seemed to light up even more. 

“Yeah, really.” You smiled at him.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

･*:༅

Jihyo sat in silence and observed the two as they went about the shop considering some flowers which were supposed to fit the couple. Johnny also stood on the side next to Jihyo and snorted when both Yeosang and you touched hands as you went to take hold of a gardenia flower at the same time. 

“Please tell me they’re not dumb like Mingi and his girlfriend.” Jihyo commented.

“No. They know that the other likes them, but y/n has a problem connecting with others who she doesn’t know on a friendly basis.” Johnny added. “It’s a good and bad thing at the same time.”

“So, they just need to be friends first?” Jihyo asked.

“I mean they technically are...?” The tall man sighed. “But yeah. They need to hang out a bit more.”

Jihyo sat in though for a few minutes before motioning to Johnny to follow her lead.

“Guys, I need to go out and pick up some stuff for the shop so I’m leaving this little task of picking the best flowers to you Yeosang.” Jihyo said, and grabbed Johnny to drag him out. “I will need Johnny’s help too. Have fun y/n.”

“Good luck.” You waved at them, not really paying attention or mind to anything.

Yeosang caught on quickly to Jihyo’s plan because she basically gave him a thumbs up and wink to go for it. He suddenly became very nervous and skittish and you noticed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Nothing.” He simply answered. “How about making some flower crowns for them? I know Mingi’s wife would like some.”

“Great idea!” You exclaimed clapping your hands together, but quickly coming to terms with a small problem. “Only... I’m shit at making those.” 

“You can’t be that bad-” You pulled out your camera and showed him some pictures of Mark mocking your hand woven flower crown. “-okay, you’re just not experienced. But I can teach you.”

And so, you spent the next two hours learning how to properly make flower crowns and finally succeeded in making a beautiful one out of the small flowers of a cloudberry. 

“I did it!” You smiled at Yeosang widely.

“Yeah. You did.”

The dreamy look in his eyes had you blushing furiously as a sudden thought ran through your mind. Somehow you’ve come to know Yeosang a bit more through this little activity the both of you did and it gave you courage that maybe, the crush you had on him, and the crush he had on you, could work out into something more. But you had to be sure, so you took the next step.

“So, because I have to get everything ready and in order for the wedding next week, do you want to help me out?” You asked, your ears burning from the heat your cheeks produced.

Yeosang blinked a few times but nodded, shy and small, a smile playing on his lips.

“I’d love to.”

“Great. Is it okay if you come over tomorrow after your shift?” 

“As in, come over to your home?”

“Yeah, I share an appartment with Johnny and Mark next to the NCT studio. Both of them have other business to attend to so they won’t be home and we can work in peace.” God this seemed to be so intimate but not at the same time. “You can say no if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No!” He suddenly said making you frown and avert your gaze. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly corrected himself. “What I meant to say was that I am not uncomfortable and it’s totally fine being alone with you.” Great Yeosang, now she will think you’re desperate. “I’ll come over after 4 p.m.”

“Awesome.” Johnny came in with Jihyo just as you said. “Johnny look, I finally made a normal flower crown.” You flaunted your handy work to your friend. “All thanks to Yeosang.”

“Nice. Let’s go show it to Mark and make him suffer for ever mocking your crooked ones before.” He laughed. “See you around guys.”

“See ya.” You waved at them both and left the shop.

“So did it help being alone with her?” Jihyo asked, glancing at a blushy mess of a co-worker.

“Yes. I’m going over to her place tomorrow.” He whispered out, squating down and holding his face in his arms. “God, I feel like a high school kid who had his first kiss.”

Jihyo laughed and patted the man’s shoulder reassuringly. You managed to make Mark swallow his words and admit you did an awesome job with these new flower crowns. The day had ended with you laying in your bed, your head on your soft pillow with thoughts of Yeosang drifting you off to sleep, the flower crown you made proudly placed on your bed-side table as the night shifted darker.

･*:༅

“We made quite a lot haven’t we.” Yeosang commented as he finished his 40th dandelion crown since he came over. “What are we gonna do with so many?”

“Give them out to the guests. It’ll look nice in the photos.” You shrugged your shoulders as you texted Mingi’s future wife to tell her the plan. “She agreed to it. And Mingi seems to be excited.”

“Yeah, he does that when it comes to her.” Yeosang smiled solemnly. 

“We’re done for today. The rest of the work is mostly on Mark and Johnny’s shoulders now.” You smiled and looked outside.

It was about 5.45 p.m. and you knew that soon the sun was going to set. You looked over to the window and noticed the furry friend you were waiting for and opened the glass which separated you two to have him jump into your arms and lick your nose slightly. 

“Where have you been Dandelion?” You asked the grey cat as he purred in your hold. “Want some tuna with that love of yours.” You joked and placed him down before opening a can and placing it in his bowl so he can freely munch on it.

“You have a cat?” Yeosang asked, observing the interaction with soft eyes.

“Yeah. Technically he is a stray but likes to cuddle from time to time. He hates Mark and Johnny for some reason, but likes me and dandelion flowers, hence the name.” You shrugged your shoulders as you petted his head while he ate. “By the way, wanna see something cool?”

“Sure.” Yeosang stood up as you jumped out the window onto the connecting roof of a building next to your appartment. 

He followed your lead as you kept walking and climbing on to a spot which had an outdoor lounge are filled with bean bags and a small wooden table.

“This is a secret rest area for the NCT studio which I usually use to take pictures of the sunset.” You said, plopping down on one of the bean bags. “Take a seat. You want something cold to drink?” 

“Sure.” You grabbed two iced-teas and turned to give him one but were met with Dandelion cozying up to him instead. 

“So he likes you.” 

“It seems so.” He laughed and took the tea you offered him, opening it swiftly with one hand. “It’s so beautiful.”

You looked over at the setting sun. “Yeah. It is.” You took a sip of your tea and sneakily took a photo of Yeosang and your cat. “By the way. I have something to tell you.” You were now certain.

“What’s up?” Yeosang turned to look at your profile which was being bathed in the setting sun.

“I like you.” You said, not daring to look at him before taking a deep breath. “I like you more than a friend.”

Your eyes met for a brief second, you holding your breath as you waited for any type of reaction. The sudden blush which creeped up to his ears and down to his neck was a bit worrying but you still waited. He looked down at his hands and pinched his cheek to see if he was dreaming or not.

“I like you too. More than a friend.” He whispered out and laughed to himself holding his face in his hands, before finally pulling you to him, and placing his chin on your head. “I’m so happy. Like really happy to know the feeling is mutual.”

“Me too.” You said, burrying your face into his shoulder. “I want to try dating. Like, couple stuff too. And everything that goes with it.” You mumbled. “I think I can trust you.”

“Then we will do all that!” He said looking at you.

The both of you placed your foreheads against each others, smiling like idiots. The sun set in the background peacefully as Dandelion purred in Yeosang’s lap. Life was beautiful, serene and fluffy.

Just like the clouds and berries of this series.

#ateez imagines #kang yeosang #ateez #ateez reaction #cloudberry